


Even Lovers Drown

by artsyChica2012



Category: Scandal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Olitz, Original Cast, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 15:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 51
Words: 96,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7393633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsyChica2012/pseuds/artsyChica2012
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story starts off after Defiance and Fitz's discovery of Olivia's part in it, leaving their relationship in ruins. An international crisis erupts, forcing them back into working with one another. Though pride and pain are ruling them both and trust is shattered between them, can they truly forget what they once had and go on with their lives apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**"A mermaid found a swimming lad, Picked him for her own, Pressed her body to his body, Laughed; and plunging down Forgot in cruel happiness That even lovers drown."**  
**\- William Butler Yeats**

 

**Chapter One - Forgotten Memories**

 

How had he forgotten that _she_ would be there? With everything else that was happening, when Cyrus had reminded him about Ella's christening, Fitz had actually looked forward to the ceremony and the small reception to be held afterwards with a sense of relief. It would be a brief escape from every thing, that had been plaguing him. From the lie that had become his life - or the life that had become a lie - and the answer to that was still unknown to him. The search for that truth kept him awake long into the night.

The Oval Office had also become a lonely one.

That he had expected; but in the wake of Verna's death, and more importantly, the words she'd spoken before she'd passed, it had also become a dry and arid desert in which he was stranded all alone. Her words had shattered the foundation of damn near everything he had believed in. Everything he had set out to be, including his very sense of self.

Fitz had known that she was sick; he hadn't known the supreme court justice was so close to dying - since in several ways he was still recovering from his own near-death experience. An assassin's bullet had very nearly ended his life and to see death so close again was unsettling.

What she'd had to say had sent his thoughts fragmenting into a million pieces, each one as sharp as mirrored glass. But in each of them,her words, gasped out in a throaty whisper, were all too horribly clear. She pulled her oxygen mask from her voice and began. 

"I was the one who sent that woman to assassinate you."

He heard her now, her voice low and gasping but relentless, cleansing her soul even as she burnt his own to the ground.

"Defiance County." she said, answering the question that had to have been plain upon his face. "Hollis Doyle rigged the voting machines. We all knew... we all helped cover it up."

Fitz couldn't believe his ears, he couldn't be hearing her right - she had to be losing her mind. "We?" he managed to choke out.

"Don't pretend you don't know..." she reached for her mask again. 

Comprehension tinged his words with disbelief. "Mellie? Cyrus?"

Verna did nothing but stare at him, willing him to take that last unconscionable, unthinkable step. "O-Olivia?"

She didn't deny it. A weird satisfaction filled her eyes.

She dragged the oxygen mask away from her face once more; when next she spoke, her voice turned accusatory. "You made us love you! You made us so devoted - with your charm. We believed in you! We sold our souls for you!"

Her eyes never left his, holding him motionless. "Something had to be done!" 

"You could have told me - you could have told the press. You didn't have to shoot me and kill an innocent woman..." Fitz's head was pounding with the enormity of her actions. This was treason of the highest order. But through the pain his mind went to work and comprehension came swiftly. "But then you would have to admit your part - resign from the bench. Lose your grip on power - and watch your legacy turn to ashes." 

It was suddenly as though he were watching someone else having this macabre conversation with a dying woman. "Is that really worth my life?" 

Her lips twisted in grim humor. "Not anymore."

Everything after that had taken on a mask of unreality. Even as Verna's voice went on and on, flashes of a dozen or more images appeared and reappeared in his mind, like scenes from some old movie.

In some, he confronted his betrayers, shouting his hatred at them, promising to use the full extent of the law against them as revenge; Hollis, Cyrus, Mellie - such humiliation and rage was an ancient thing to him. He hadn't felt such rage since his teenaged years when his father controlled everything about him, had little good to say about him but was quick to point out the tiniest flaws.

  
It was almost foreign to him. He had been helpless then, so helpless that his father's words were a sickness in his gut that he'd never been able to shake.

  
But he wasn't powerless now. He was, in fact, the most powerful man in the world. So when a sense of satisfaction rose from somewhere within him - sickly sweet like  
rancid honey - to engulf him, it was easy to let it fill him unresisting. He was about to let it take him fully - until her face appeared.

  
Even in his twisting shifting thoughts, Olivia's beauty had the power to steal his breath away. Eyes dark and soft enough to drown in, lips sweet enough to kiss forever.

From the first moment when she and he had stood alone, apart from every one and every thing, she'd had a voice, a smile, a touch like nothing else he'd ever known. In his mind's eye her face kept changing; Fitz seeing her in all her many ways. She seemed to be standing before him, eyes wide with unshed tears in one second, then in the next, those same eyes, face all misty and aglow with love for him. The next moment he was imagining her like he always did as she must have looked when he called her late at night, with sleep hazing her eyes and her voice and the gentlest of smiles on her full lips. 

Like pages of a book being flipped, the images flashed before him, dizzying him, building up a tension in him that made his hands clench into fists while his head pounded.

He heard Verna again.

"Not anymore," she was saying. "I'm meeting with a federal prosecutor after you - I - I am coming clean before I die. But - but I wanted you to hear it all first. I owe that to you father." 

His father. Those words echoed in his mind; it was the final blow that sent him crumbling inside. Fitz's head exploded in blinding, lightening-white pain. His mind, his heart, his soul, shattered beneath it.

When reality returned, Fitz was gripping Verna's hands. He blinked as he struggle to refocus. His eyes darted to her face, dreading see her expression. He'd never known that she hated him so.

But there was no expression on Verna's face, no expression at all. Only a gaze that looked beyond him into infinity. Shock ran through Fitz as he realized that he was gripping her hands and that she was no longer breathing. Dread filled him as he realized that he couldn't remember what had happened in the last few minutes. Fitz scrambled up from her bedside, shouting for help, but knew even as he did it, that was too late.

Verna Thorton, newest member of the Supreme Court of the United States, was dead. 

 

* * *

 

And at her funeral a few days later, he had severed all ties with Olivia.

He wanted to hate her - hate her like he'd hated Verna in the last moments of her life. He had every right to hate her and when next he saw her in the church just before he gave Verna's eulogy, he had taken a sick delight in using his words as a weapon. To give her the merest taste of the pain she'd given him.  
  
"Don't wait for me."

  
"What?" her voice stayed low but he could hear the shock in it. Hear the tremble that shook it as though she could not believe what she was hearing.

  
He was proud of himself, that his voice could stay so level and calm even as he turned to face her. "I don't know what I was thinking. I mean, screwing your mistress was one thing, but marrying her? That's political suicide."

Fitz ignored the growing disbelief, the shock and then the hurt that had welled up in her eyes. "I mean, you believe in my presidency is more important than anything else, right? And after all, you worked so  
hard to put me here." He stared at her a moment longer, all emotion buried inside of him where nothing would ever be able to touch it again.

Comprehension began to awaken in her face.

It was, he realized, what he had been waiting for. He stared at her a moment more, then simply turned and walked away.

Fitz had told himself that Olivia deserved no less. His mind knew that -even if his heart did not. The solution was easy - never let his heart be touched by anyone else ever again. He could do that.

But Fitz had somehow forgotten that when Cyrus and James had asked him to stand as god-father, they had also asked Olivia to stand as god-mother. So when he turned and saw her walking up the aisle of the church to join the baptismal party, he was stunned for about half a breath.

She was as beautiful as only Olivia could be, dressed in a cool pastel green dress and jacket that reminded him of Jackie O - outwardly as serene as the Virgin Mary - classic, classy and untouchable. Seemingly innocent of her ultra-feminine appeal. Innocent and unknowing of all the brilliance and depth that lay beneath her lying, duplicitous and all-too-beautiful facade.

Another lie, Fitz told himself, even as his blood kindled at the sight of her; a fresh wave of anger rose in its wake, blurring his sight. Reality shifted for a split second - once again he heard Verna's words echoing within him, reminding him of her treachery, her betrayal.

The throbbing that started in his temples didn't go away, not even when they faced one another, their hands linked together as they held little Ella between them while the bishop spoke his blessings over her.

She had no right to stand there, not with this tiny life cradled in their hands as the priest's words of blessings flowed over and around them. That her fingers were icy cold to the touch meant nothing to him - at least that is what he told himself. 

There had been a time when he'd allowed himself the daydream that one day a day like this would be theirs, a child of their love to consummate what they felt for one another. But she'd destroyed any possibility; so she had no right to the hurt that filled her eyes. She had been the cause of his pain - the burn and unending ache that had followed him every day and every hour of the night that had followed after Verna's deathbed confession and all he wanted - all he could think of - was to pay her back.

There were questions unasked in her eyes, pleading with him wordlessly as though he was supposed to know - or care - what it was she was asking for. He didn't, he told himself again and again, even while at the same time, he couldn't tear his eyes away from hers.

His father had been right; weakness was and had always been the flaw in him that nothing could erase.

She didn't deserve - what? The right to look at him as if she had ever really cared? That his silence and his distance since he'd learned the truth about her betrayal actually hurt her as much as it had hurt him?

The storms that had become his emotions crashed through him, making it almost impossible to think. He could feel the blood in his temples pounding and it was only with a greatest of effort that he kept his fingers from trembling. And it was all because of the touch of her fingers against his. All her fault again.

Fitz couldn't imagine what she wanted from him. He hadn't allowed himself to think of what it was he wanted from her, because even the merest thought of her was too painful to handle.

Even now he found himself unable to tear his gaze from hers and had to force himself to it., even while confusion jumbled his thoughts. What did he want? Did he want to scream his rage of her betrayal in her face? Did he want to demand explanations? Did he want her begging for forgiveness? Worse still, did he want to hold onto her like a drowning man clinging to a life-jacket in the middle of an endless sea of pain and never let her go?

Never. Fitz shut that last thought down with the force of a nuclear bomb. Their actions had shown him that not one of his supposed inner circle had thought him strong enough to do the job. Not ruthless enough - not enough of his father. Even Verna had said so on her deathbed. She was telling him all of this for his father. But she had been wrong. They all had been wrong.

By all that was holy, he would prove it to each and every one of them.

 


	2. Nothing But The Here And Now

At the reception that followed the christening, Fitz couldn’t help but be aware of Olivia wherever she was in the room. Outwardly she might seem normal to others, making small talk and smiling at all the right places, but his senses couldn’t help but recognize the mask she wore over her feelings, just as much as he felt the one that covered his own.

To keep his own mask firmly in place, Fitz poured himself another scotch as he watched her. He couldn’t stop watching her; even while he damned her silently over and over again. If anyone noted the number of drinks he’d had since the celebration had begun, they’d at least had the good sense not to mention it. Not even Cyrus - the king of me, he’d once called him - hadn’t quite dared.

Not that the alcohol helped as much as he’d hoped it would. Complete oblivion was beyond him, but at least over the last few months it had fulfilled its promise to at least dull the pain enough that he could function.

He could hear her voice, if not her words as the others around her made small talk and she tried her best to respond; he could hear the catch in her voice that no one else seemed able to hear that told him that she was not her usual self. His words to her at Verna’s funeral had done their job.

Good, a tiny voice whispered somewhere deep inside him. Let her hurt like he was hurting.

Cyrus, James and Ella took center stage for a moment while James made his speech about family - about love - words that caused his insides to knot up painfully even while he managed a brief smile.

Again he looked at Olivia, saw her face still, with a smile on her face that couldn’t quite reach her eyes. She must have felt his eyes on her, because suddenly her gaze flicked in his direction for just a second. It was enough - she could see the darkness in them and Fitz felt a savage satisfaction surge through him as she quickly looked away.

It wasn’t long after that that Fitz sensed her leaving. She tried to slip away from the celebration without being noticed, but he felt her presence leave the room without having to look for at her.

He refused to think about what he was doing or why he was doing it; Fitz gulped down the last of his drink and followed her. He didn’t know why he was going after her, didn’t know what it was he wanted to say to her, didn’t even know what he was going to do to her until his hand was closing over her arm and he was jerking her into an electrical conduit room.

The door slammed behind them, leaving them in silence and the dim glow of conduits and circuits.

Before she could speak - before he allowed himself to think - Fitz moved forward, taking her face between his hands before crushing her lips beneath his own. He could feel her resisting, but that only fueled the sharp and sudden need that flooded through him. There was no gentleness in him and a soft whimper escaped her just before Fitz kissed her again. Hate and pain, want and desire collided as his mouth descended once more upon hers. Unknowing, his hands dropped to draw her nearer.

Even as he felt Olivia tremble under the onslaught of his touch, she managed to slip one hand between them and push him half a step backwards. He didn’t see the other hand coming up until she slapped him hard enough to jerk his head back.

Fitz stared at her; seeing the hurt and confusion flood across her perfect features. Seeing it but refusing himself the same release. He was shattered inside - the foundation of everything he was and had thought he could be and been fractured beneath his feet - and it was all because of her.

He could see her pain; at one time it would have ripped his heart from his chest. But he had no heart - not any more. She had destroyed it.

She had destroyed everything they’d had.

How long they stood there staring at one another was a moment stolen from infinity that he would never be able to measure afterwards. It could have the space between one breath and the next; it could have been a lifetime. Within it all that existed was her eyes, luminous with emotion while the sound of her breathing - her short, sharp gasps - was the only sound filling the space between them.

As angry and hurt as she might be, there was no denying everything else she felt at his touch. That too, was reflected in her eyes. If the same was in his own, he refused to admit to it.

Fitz stood unmoving as he watched the hurt and then the confusion in her eyes drain from her face. Eyes fixed upon his, her body made a gesture of what - helplessness? - but then in the next moment she was moving towards him, pressing herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. Now it was her lips pressing against his, kissing him back with enough force to send a surge of passion through them both with an all consuming fire.

Thought left him then, reason left them both. Now there was only passion. Unthinking, unreasoning passion that burnt all sense of right and wrong, hurt and betrayal into ashes, into nothingness.

All that mattered was the here and now.

Now meant that Olivia was in his arms, her mouth - soft and as warm as he remembered - yearning - loving - opening to accept him, her arms reaching up to pull him closer.

Now meant the soft touch of her slender fingertips as they caressed his face; rediscovering the strong curve of his jaw, the crisp hair at his temples.

Now meant he could pull her closer and accept the gift of her kisses, like hidden treasure, they held a sweetness that he could never ever explain to or experience with anyone else.

His flesh - if nothing else - was greedy for her. That’s the lie he told himself as Fitz found his mouth tracing the line of her arm as she pulled him closer. A silent gasp escaped him as her mouth found the line of his jaw and then the curves of his ear. Fitz felt her body arch hard against him as he lost himself in the scent of her.

But he wanted, demanded more. His mouth sought out the tender flesh of her throat but was hampered by the style of the dress she wore; the high scoop of her dress denied him what he craved, the feel of her body

Again, action took the place of thinking; Fitz heard himself growl softly as he wrenched her around so that her back was to him, taking a moment to press his body hard against hers before his fingers fumbled at her zipper, dragging it down roughly. He would not be satisfied until some part of her was naked to his touch. As her flesh was bared to his heated gaze, Fitz groaned again as he allowed his mouth to swoop down, biting softly at her in that sweet juncture where her neck met her back.

He pleased him to hear her helpless gasp; in response Fitz felt himself harden even more as he felt her fingers reaching behind to free him, to cup him boldly in her hands.

Next thing he knew, he was freeing her from the scrap of silk between her thighs and with a soundless cry - with pleasure that was almost pain - he was plunging himself deep inside her.

Fitz felt himself go nearly mindless after being away from her for so long. In spite of all of his rage and all his hurt, all that mattered in the here and now was the scent of her rising up to drown his senses, the silkiness of her skin beneath his lips.

He just wanted to bury himself in her, find what he had lost - what had once been his refuge from all his pain. Just for a few stolen moments, he wanted, needed to escape from the rawness of his pain.

They both found something, a remembrance of love and passion amidst the ruins of what had been once upon a time.

* * *

She was unable to look at him as she stepped back into the hallway. Fitz followed, neither one of them speaking. Whatever had been in him earlier had burned itself out.

He refused to look her in the eye as he walked past.

“I made a mistake.” Her words stopped him in his tracks when he would have kept on going.

He paused, still unwilling, unable, to look her in the eye. “We both did; it won’t happen again.” Against his will, his eyes came up to touch briefly with her own. If he let her, Olivia would break his heart all over again and he couldn’t allow that to happen.

She made a soft, wordless sound of pain. “I- I meant Defiance.”

Good, she was going to make it easy for him. With that word between them, he could ward his heart against her all over again. Fitz turned and stepped closer to her.

“That wasn’t a mistake - that was betrayal. We are done.” He told himself to ignore the jolt of pain that made her body jerk in response.

Her eyes had dropped from his but not before he saw the numbed disbelief in them.

Something else that was him and not him all at once spoke the words before he realized what he was going to say. It wanted her pain.

“I may not be able to control my erections around you, but that does not mean that I want you.” He drove the knife home, slowly speaking his next words to make sure she heard them clearly.

“We. Are. Done.”

Just as he turned away, Cyrus appeared down the hall, calling him back to his duties.

It was Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III, President of the United States who walked away from her and never looked back.

A bitter laugh welled up from inside of him. If he were still alive, his father would be proud.


	3. Old Memories and New Opportunities

Olivia realized that she’d read the document in front of her for the third time and still didn’t understand what it meant. She let it drop with disgust and leaned back in her chair, briefly closing her eyes.

This was ridiculous, she scolded herself. All was said and done. It was over - he had made it abundantly clear - and she was moving forward with her life. Wasn’t she?

Then why couldn’t she get Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III out of her mind?

She picked up the remote control on her desk and switched on the tv, scanning the news channels until one of them caught her eye. She turned the sound up as the newscaster was in the middle of his story about the five aid workers that had been abducted by some splinter rebellious terrorist group only weeks ago.

Not unexpectedly, the picture switched to one of the president’s news conferences. As unwise as she knew it was, Olivia couldn’t tear her eyes away from the screen.

As always, he was the very image of a president, tall and commanding, with a voice of quiet authority and eyes that caught you and held you and made you believe every word he spoke. She doubted if there were many who noticed the tightness around his mouth or the new lines of tension beginning at the corners of his eyes.

She did. Olivia looked at him, resisting the urge to sigh unhappily even while she wondered when it was that he had last had a full and good night’s rest.

Olivia shook her head as though to clear those treacherous thoughts away. He was no longer hers to worry about. And truthfully, he had never been.

Standing up, she hit the mute button on the remote before moving away from her desk. Olivia took a moment to stretch complaining muscles before wandering over to the window. Her intent was to look out at the busy streets below but her thoughts went elsewhere.

She frowned. This still happened every single time she saw him; some old memory of him, of them, would loose itself from the shadows of her mind.

This time, unwillingly, the memory was of their last encounter. She had literally thrown herself into his arms and for a moment, had let herself believe in a miracle - that everything was going to be okay.

Only to find out that it wasn’t.

His words were like a shock of ice water thrown in her face.

Just because I can’t control my erections around you doesn’t mean I wanted you.

_We. Are. Done._

And before she could say anything - Cyrus was standing at the end of the hallway, calling him away.

One week passed, and then another and then others . Olivia had dived head-long back into the operations at OPA, done her best to get through her days like nothing had happened - as if the world as she knew it hadn’t ended. And most of the time she managed to succeed. Barely.

The nights were the worse, though. Without meaning to, she found herself still waiting for those late night calls. The same ones she used protest half-heartedly against even while they both knew how false her words were. They had believed that they would always be connected.

And now they weren’t. And it was all her fault.

She wasn’t alone in what had happened; in fact she had been the last one of the group to agree - had argued against it up until the very end. And even then she had done it with her heart aching so badly she’d had to struggle to hold back her tears.

And why? Olivia shook her head because she couldn’t really say - there were a million and one reasons why she had, and a million and one reasons why she shouldn’t have.

She closed her eyes against the painful memory, feeling the hot prickle of tears beginning.

_Come on, Olivia,_ she told herself as she wiped at them angrily. _Get it together before your people notice and start asking questions._

It came to her that they probably already did; she’d seen signs of it in their eyes. The looks that held a fraction longer, the side glances between one another when they thought she wasn’t paying attention. She’d tried to tell herself that she was being paranoid, but the truth of it was that all of them were showing it in different, mostly subtle ways, but the knowledge that something was on their boss’ mind was bright behind their eyes.

Never ones to pry, to push beyond a certain point, no one had confronted her yet. In that, she had trained them well - there was a reason why it said Olivia Pope and Associates on the door. But the longer she tried to hold her mask in place, the more she could feel the questions beginning to rise in them with more and more regularity.

Abby was the most transparent of all. More and more, the looks she gave Olivia were clearly inquisitive - it was clear she was barely managing to keep herself from asking anything and Olivia wondered how much longer she would be able to hold her silence. Plus she was starting to bring in baked goods on a regular basis. While this was making the rest of the associates very happy, Olivia knew better. When Abby worried or stressed over things - she baked. Prolifically.

Harrison’s eyes were full of concern and more than a hint of bewilderment of why she hadn’t confided in him about whatever he thought was concerning her.

Huck’s look was something she could at least take a sort of refuge in; he cared as much as anyone else, but he would ask nothing of her that she wasn’t ready to give; that and his protectiveness gave Olivia a strange sense of comfort. And even Quinn was shyly curious, still mostly too awed by her to dare to speak much of anything that didn’t have anything to do with work.

Olivia wondered if her gladiators discussed her when she wasn’t around to hear it. Maybe they had and had all decided to give her time and space. Knowing her people as well as she did, she was probably right about that.

The thought made her smile, wondering which one of them would be the first to break that collaborative silence. They were a crack investigative team, with highly tuned senses for ferreting out truths and information and it was only a matter of time before one of them confronted her. Secrets were things to be solved.

Her smile faded a little; she only wished that she could tell them the truth. That was something she could barely face herself, let alone allow anyone else to see.

With that in mind, Olivia had a sudden change of mind. It wasn’t cowardice, she told herself - she just needed a few minutes to get her thoughts moving in another direction. She needed to get her game face on so that all those eyes awaiting her would turn themselves elsewhere. Otherwise she might find herself crumbling before them and crumbling wasn’t something that Olivia Carolyn Pope did.

“Not even for you.” she said aloud.

“Not even for who?”

Olivia turned to see Harrison standing in the doorway, folder in hand. She was annoyed with herself that she hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Have we forgotten to knock?” Olivia’s voice was a little more sharper than she meant it to be. She smiled an apology at him.

“I did knock.” Harrison said; his expression shifted from its usual amiable expression to something closer to concern. “My turn for a question - what’s got you going so that you didn’t even hear me?”

“I’m a busy woman.” Olivia said lightly. “I’ve got my fingers in all sorts of pies.”

“That could prove to be very messy.” Harrison chuckled a little, in spite of the concern she could still see lurking in his gaze. His expression sobered a little. “If there’s anything else you need to talk about...” he let his words trail off.

Olivia smiled back at him, knowing that he was sincere. “If there was and I needed to talk, I know you’re there for me.”

He took the hint to let it drop and smiled back at her in acknowledgment. “And how do you know that?”

“Because you’re my gladiator in a suit.” Both of them grinned.

Just then, the phone rang. Holding up one finger to Harrison, Olivia answered it.

“Olivia?”

She tried to keep the surprise from her voice. “Cyrus? How are you? How’s James and the baby?”

“My family is fine. As for my job - the usual. Doing a thankless job herding the sharks of the inner sanctum.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way.” she reminded him.

“There’s that.” he conceded. Cyrus paused. “Are you busy? I need to talk to you.”

Instantly her guard went up. “About what?”

“I’d rather discuss it in person.”

“I don’t think it wise that I...”

“Come here.” he finished the sentence for her. “And I agree. I seem to remember a particular outdoor coffee stand you used to favor.”

“I still do.” Olivia replied.

“Then can you meet me there in say - about twenty minutes. I’ll even spring for your two sprinkles of cinnamon.”

Olivia thought about it for all of ten seconds, then made her decision. “I’ll be there.” She hung up before she could change her mind.

Harrison said nothing, only looked. He knew better than to ask about anything concerning the White House and its inner affairs. That was something Olivia rarely discussed with anybody and even then it was on a need to know basis.

“So...” he said.

“So - it seems that I’ll be out of the office for a bit. Was there anything that you needed to tell me?”

Harrison waved the folder he’d had in his hand at her. “I was just about to meet with a new client.”

Olivia frowned at him until he reminded her. “Shireen Davis? She’s getting some unwanted attention from someone pretty high up on the political ladder?”

That was enough to jog her memory. “How’s that going?”

“She’s a little gun-shy right now. Doesn’t know who to trust. I’ve convinced her to meet with Abby and me outside the office; hopefully she’ll open up enough to see that she can trust us. And if we trust her, we’ll bring her in and you can get your usual one on one.”

Olivia started gathering up her things. “I hope so; we can’t help her if she can’t help us. And that takes trust going both ways.”

“I hope to convince her of that when we meet.” As Olivia reached for her coat, Harrison took it from her and held it out for her to slip on.

“If anyone can convince a woman of anything, it’s you, Harrison.”

“Well, thank you Ms. Pope, for admiring my skills.” He winked at her.

Olivia shook her head even as she smiled at him; Harrison was a good looking man. Even better - a sexy-looking man who was confident in himself - and that in itself was attractive to any red-blooded woman all by itself - especially when he turned his weapons of mass attractiveness up to full one hundred percent wattage.

“Your charm, you mean, right?” she said with a laugh as they walked out of her office. “Not to mention your good looks, your smooth as silk voice...”

“Like I said, my skills.” The smile that flashed at her was the one that would melt almost any woman’s heart.

“Don’t encourage him, Olivia. It makes him more impossible to work with than usual.” Abby said as she joined them.

“Sounds like you might need to practice those skills some.” Olivia gave Harrison a smile.

“First I need to find a worthy target.” he answered, with a pointed look at the redhead.

Before they could get into one of their little spats, Olivia raised her hand. “Children, let’s at least behave until Mother has left the room, okay?”

With another little laugh as she headed for the door. “Hold down the fort, people, ‘til I get back.”

As Olivia disappeared from sight, Abby and Harrison looked at one another.

“Is she okay?” the tone of her voice said she already knew the answer.

“Nah, not really. We were right though; she’s working through something in her head, but she isn’t ready to talk about yet, either.”

“If ever.”

“Well,” Harrison turned to Abby. “Unfortunately, that’s Olivia Pope for you.”

“Yes, too bad it is.”


	4. Chapter 4

The clouds had battled the sun throughout the morning, making it a cool and misty one, but by the afternoon, the sun had begun to win the war, allowing Olivia and Cyrus to have a pleasant enough walk through the park.

Cyrus had gotten to the coffee kiosk first and had been waiting for her with their two cups when she arrived. After saying their hellos, they headed into the park, with Cyrus bringing Olivia up to speed about her god-daughter Ella.

While Olivia always loved hearing about Ella's doings, she knew that was not the reason why Cyrus had asked to meet with her and finally said so.

"Of course it's not." Cyrus said.

For the first time in a very long time, Olivia heard the weariness in his voice; it caused her to stop and look at him sharply. "What is it Cyrus? Are you all right? Have you been sick or something?"

Something had to be wrong.

Cyrus waved them towards an empty park bench. Most of the people passing them by were in a hurry to get somewhere else, so their privacy was pretty much a given. "Physically, no, there's nothing wrong with me that a few shots of scotch wouldn't take care of. Maybe I could at least sleep at night."

"You hate scotch." she reminded him.

"I hate scotch." he agreed, before continuing with a touch of his usual sharpness,"But for other people, it seems to work so well as a sleeping aid."

Both of them fell silent. He hadn't meant to bring up the subject of scotch; not when they both knew in common who did have a taste for it.

"Sorry." he said.

Olivia shrugged the apology away. Cyrus had already told her months ago that the president - and that's how she tried to think of him now - not Fitz, but as the president - had been drinking considerably more than he had in the past.

Olivia sipped at her coffee, trying to lose herself in the rich cinnamon scented brew, but she'd lost the battle before it had begun. She sighed and surrendered.

"How is he?"

Cyrus managed a small sigh of his own and with it came a resigned expression. "He's still very much functional, don't worry. His personal secret service guys are pretty discrete about the disposal of the bottles, but I can count too and the number has gone up. He can go through a bottle in less than a week and that's not -" Cyrus stopped and corrected himself " - that used to not be him."

For a moment, Olivia couldn't look at her friend. Times like this, she could barely bear to look at herself. "I told you he knows. We did this to him, Cyrus."

Cyrus waited a moment before he answered - what was telling that this time, he offered no argument.

"What's done is done." he said. "He is the president and that's that. And he's a good one - and the potential is still there to be a great one."

"It was always there." Olivia said softly. "Maybe we should have thought of that before we did what we did..."

Cyrus put out one hand and patted her on the arm. "You're right - it was always there. You saw, I saw it - hell, the country saw it. That's why he got elected."

"It still doesn't negate what we did."

"No, but what we did was for the good of our country. Never forget that, Olivia. We haven't had this level of bipartisanship from either side of the aisle in decades - that's what we brought back to America. If I'm to be damned for it, then so be it."

His voice went fierce. "We did the right thing. Even if Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III knows - even if he will never admit that - he's the right man at the right time for this country. We needed him - America needed him!"

Olivia lifted her cup to her lips and drank deep from the cooled coffee. They'd had a variation of this conversation more than once and would probably have more of them again. Probably to convince one another that in spite of what wrong they'd agreed to, they'd been forced to do it for all the right reasons.

It still didn't sit right with her. It probably never would. She held up her hand. "You're preaching to the choir here, Cyrus."

He caught himself and surprisingly, managed a chuckle aimed mostly at himself. "I am, aren't I? Sorry, I guess I'm just feeling a little sorry for myself, since I've been relegated to a position outside of the intimacy of the Oval Office."

"Give it time." Olivia said.

"I'm trying, but with Mellie always at his side, whispering in his ear, doing her very best to keep me out in the cold, well - let's just say it hasn't been easy to maintain my usual practicality. This isn't the first time Fitz and I have been at odds - but it has been the longest."

Olivia shook her head. "She's more of a fool than I ever credited her for. She knows Fitz." Olivia's voice caught, just a little, as she said his name. It was something she tried very hard not to do anymore. His name on her lips caused more heartache than she liked to admit - even to herself.

She made a sound in a throat and continued. "He needs you."

Neither one of them said aloud what they both knew they were thinking in that moment.

_He needs you, too._

"Yes, he knows that much, so that's why I'm still there." Cyrus said. "Especially with the hostage situation still dragging on."

"And that's why the issue of Defiance has never come up between you. A part of him hates you right now. _" While all of him hates me,_ a voice whispered inside of her. "But you're invaluable to him and he knows it."

"Right again." Cyrus said. "You always were my favorite student - and for very good reason. Smarter and quicker on the uptake than all of my students combined."

"I was too busy being awed by you to do otherwise." Olivia said. "But you know that you have always been my very favorite mentor." She paused for a moment, her throat aching a little from the unspoken words that still lay between them. She drank more of her coffee, willing the tightness to go away.

"I always said that if Fitz ever found out about Defiance that it would change him - it would change him at a very fundamental level."

Olivia, remembering their encounter at the christening, knew that she could never tell Cyrus just how right he was. There was a time that Fitz would have never been capable of using her own passion against her as a weapon. Her heart ached with remembered pain as she'd sat in the pew at Verna's funeral and came to the painful realization of what his words to her had really meant.

It was nothing she wanted to dwell on, so she changed the subject. "You were right, we both know that now, but this wasn't why you called me, Cyrus - will you tell me why you did now?"

A shadow passed over Cyrus' face. "It's James."

Olivia was alarmed at the look at her friend's face. "Is he sick?" Her mind went racing off in a million directions all at once, the fixer in her went to work. "Does he need a second opinion, a third? Is he in some sort of trouble? What can I do to help?"

Cyrus actually managed a laugh as he interrupted her. "No, it's none of the above. James is fine, health-wise. I told you already, we're all fine. And I don't think there's anything you can do to help - not at the moment, at least."

Even though the smile tried to linger on his face, something altogether different was in his eyes. "He's lying to me."

Olivia didn't know what to say and it must have shown on her face.

"It's not what you think - he isn't cheating on me. I have no doubt that James loves me. But he lied to me anyway."

She knew that despite Cyrus' ability to be ruthless, she doubted if he'd ever loved anyone in his life as much as Cyrus had come to love James. Whatever the betrayal was, it had to have hurt him badly.

"About what?" she asked. She was unprepared for Cyrus' answer.

"It may have to do with Defiance."

A shock went through her. "How?"

"I don't know the how of it yet." Cyrus said. "What I do know is that he told that he was going to see about his father, but I recently discovered that the week James said he was going, he actually flew out to Ohio instead. Defiance County to be exact."

"No." Olivia breathed.

Cyrus nodded. "Oh yes. And we both know that James is very highly experienced journalistic investigator. A Pulitzer Prize level journalistic investigator. If his nose gets on the scent, he'll follow it no matter where it leads."

He turned an anguished gaze on Olivia. "I can't have him finding out." Cyrus' voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "It will destroy - everything."

His words took a moment to sink in. Everything could literally mean anything when it came to Cyrus Beene, Chief of Staff. "Cyrus, what are you going to do about it?"

The fact that he turned his gaze from her and didn't answer the question set a thin current of fear rising in her. She reached out and gripped his arm. "Cyrus?"

For a long moment, he still wouldn't answer her. Cyrus sat up a little straighter and set his shoulders before turning to face her.

"I will protect America from the upheaval this news would have on the country. I will protect the presidency of this United States however it needs to be done. I will protect Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III with all the resources at my disposal. I always have and I always will."

A chill washed over her as Olivia knew that he meant every word of it. She had had ample example of how far Cyrus would go to protect Fitz, even if he never knew about it. Defiance itself was but the tip of the iceberg.

The specter of Amanda Tanner rose up between them. It was something that they had never discussed, she and Cyrus, but she was ninety-nine percent sure that Cyrus had had her removed because of the threat she had posed to the presidency.

"Cyrus?" she was afraid to ask, but the question hovered on her lips, understood yet unspoken.

"He's been seen talking to David Rosen." Cyrus said. He turned his gaze away from Olivia, continuing on as though she hadn't spoken. "Oh, they have been very accidental meetings. Run-ins here and there. D.C. can be a very small town when you run in the circles of power. One might think that they were totally coincidental."

"They could be..." Olivia said.

"And it could be they aren't." Cyrus said. "And if they aren't, then I will have to make a decision on how to proceed."

He stood up and drained the last of his cup. As he moved to toss it into the nearest trash can, Olivia followed him and did the same.

She touched his arm again. "I want you to promise me something."

Cyrus stood there for a moment, silent, locked into his own thoughts. Then he turned to face her. "What is it, Olivia?"

"If you come to a decision about what actions you need to take, I want you to promise me that you'll come and talk to me about it first."

A strange expression crossed his face then, one Olivia couldn't quite read. "I don't know it you'd want to..." his voice trailed away.

Olivia slipped her hand down from his arm to his hand and gripped it tightly. "I do want to know. Because I want you to be sure about it. You and I - we don't always see eye to eye on a lot of things. But when we're on the same page, we are one hell of a team and you know it."

A faint smile came to his lips. "That's true."

"Then you remember that. On this matter, we're a team. But you and James - and Ella - you three are also on the same team. You need to remember that, and you need me to help you remember that. Blind loyalty to -to - Fitz." - and even in the middle of all of this potential bombshell, it was still a struggle for her to say his name - "- played a huge part in what's happening now. Let's try to not repeat that mistake. There's too much at stake here."

Cyrus gripped her hand harder. If his voice was a little rough around the edges when it came out, neither one of the remarked upon it. "My favorite student."

"I learned from a master."

Before either of them could say anything else, both of their phones began to ring. It was the world was calling them back. Cyrus nodded at her, even as he reached for his.

Olivia returned the gesture as she reached for hers.

A moment later, both of them left the park, headed in opposite directions. Back into the world to fight the battles that lay before them.


	5. Chapter 5

It was late in the afternoon when Cyrus responded to an unexpected summons to the Oval Office.

"Mr. President?" he announced himself as he knocked and then stepped into the room. In spite of his worries, Cyrus always enjoyed the thrill of accomplishment he felt whenever he stood in the Oval Office, knowing that he belonged there. The clean lines and sense of understated power filled him with a sense of satisfaction that nothing else in his life gave him. No matter what else the day might hold, at the end of it, it was always this.

The president - Cyrus rarely referred to him as anything else, even in his own mind - didn't answer him right away.

Fitz was seated behind his desk, occupied with the contents of the folder he was holding. Cyrus took the moment to study him. His sense of accomplishment and personal satisfaction faded away.

There was a trace of dark circles under the president's eyes. He still wasn't sleeping as well as Cyrus would have liked. As harried as he might be as Chief of Staff - being the power behind the throne as it were - he knew that it was nothing compared to be the actual commander-in-chief of the most powerful country in the world. That alone was enough to take a toll on any man.

And it had begun to take its toll on Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III. Along with the dark circles, there were new lines of stress in the corner of his eyes; Cyrus thought he might be seeing the beginning of the tiniest touch of silver at his temples.

The presidency made a man more of what he already was. Despite what he believed the president had learned - that Olivia had insisted he knew - the knowledge of what they had done hadn't broken him in the way Cyrus might have expected. Or if it had, the president had refused to let it show. That might account for the drinking and the sleeplessness, but until Fitz himself brought it up, Cyrus felt forced to keep silent on the matter as well.

If Olivia was right, it grieved him in a way that he could never admit to any one. He had played his part in it but the truth of the matter was that was a fact that he could barely admit to himself - let alone anyone else.

It was a lonesome cross to bear.

Cyrus swallowed back the taste of bitterness that came up and lingered in the back of his throat. He could have done the job just as well, he thought. he'd always known it. Except that he was who he was and he was what he was - and America was in no way ready for that. But for that one fact, he could have shouldered the burdens of the affairs of state just as well as the younger man before him. Maybe even better.

It was one of the reasons why he had so solidly backed him. Fitz, as he sometimes still allowed himself to call the other man, was a younger, albeit version of himself where intelligence and leadership were concerned. Cyrus could never be him, but...

No. He wouldn't allow himself to dwell on that ancient heartache any longer.

Even so, there was the evidence of too many sleepless nights on Fitz's face; too many nights given over to the scotch that deadened his pain. It wasn't obvious to anyone outside his inner circle, but the signs were all there, ready for anyone who really knew who Fitzgerald Grant was to see. And Cyrus knew a little more than most. He knew that the president was in love with a woman not his wife and losing her was eating him up from the inside out.

The unspoken issue of Defiance had only made things worse.

And it was another thing that they would not - could not - talk about.

"Mr. President." he repeated.

Fitz's eyes finally came up to meet his own. Cyrus took it as a signal to approach.

"How is she?" the president's words stopped Cyrus in his tracks.

"Sir?"

The president's eyes darkened from their normal grey-blue to the dangerous hues of storm clouds as they bored into his own. "Olivia Pope - as if you didn't know." He bit his next words out slowly. "How. Is. She?"

He knew they'd met, Cyrus realized. He realized that the president was not happy about it.

Neither was Cyrus. Who was he having watched - him or Olivia - or the both of them? His nerves were already frayed enough from his own issues. He was not - although he should have been since it was an acknowledged part of his job - willing to put up with this sort of crap. Not in this moment.

"About as well as you - _sir._ " Cyrus was tired and a little more worn down than usual which was the only reason he allowed some of his own aggravation show. He regretted it the moment he heard his own words.

It was too late to take them back; Cyrus could see that the president had heard the challenge in his voice. In reaction, Fitz came to his feet, the beginning of anger radiating from his entire body.

"Just what is that supposed to mean?" Fitz looked as though he was very close to losing his temper.

Cyrus felt very much the same and refused to back down. "I'm only answering your question, Mr. President."

Fitz was finding it hard to hold his temper in check as he watched Cyrus cross the room. When he was standing directly before his desk, for the first time in a long time, Cyrus faced him eye to eye, without any reservation or apology in his eyes.

"I wasn't aware - sir - that my duties as Chief of Staff now entailed my reporting on Olivia Pope's comings and goings. Especially since she is no longer connected with this administration." Cyrus rushed on before Fitz opened his mouth to answer.

"May I respectfully remind you, Mr. President, that I knew Olivia Pope long before you did - and you knew that from the start when I first brought her in to work on your election campaign. And whether we are on opposite sides of your policies or not - she and I have a relationship outside of that."

Fitz noticed that Cyrus' eyes were just as angry as his own probably were. But Cyrus wasn't finished with him quite yet. He dropped a final bombshell.

"Or am I supposed to distance myself from one of the few truly supporting friendships that I've been able to maintain over the years simply because you've been unable to sustain yours?"


	6. Chapter 6

The two men glared at one another as the impact of Cyrus' words hung in the air between them.

"Do you want to explain yourself, Cyrus?" Fitz asked. His voice might be quiet but his tone had gone low and dangerous and the anger in it was clear.

"I didn't think I needed to, Mr. President." Cyrus never forgot who he was talking to, but that didn't stop him from being himself. And right now, he was both angry and offended.

Fitz suddenly realized how tensed up his body was, as though it had sensed a possible physical threat instead of merely a verbal one. Every muscle in his body was stiff and angry and he could feel his heart beating heavily.

His response surprised him. Then again, there had been a lot on both of their plates in the last few weeks - and that just concerned the things they did talk about. There were elephants in the room that weren't being discussed, but that didn't mean that they weren't there. And the combined weight of them had been weighing heavily on them both.

Olivia was only a part of that.

Automatically, his mind veered away from thoughts of her. He just couldn't bear to think of her these days. Fitz took a few steps away from his desk in a conscious effort to force himself to relax. "I'll let that comment go - for now."

"How magnanimous of you, sir." Cyrus' sarcasm was evident, fairly dripping from his last word.

"Don't push me, Cyrus." Fitz warned him. The merest thought of Olivia's name was enough to push him over the edge and he found himself desperately wanting to back away from it. If one of them said the wrong thing right now, words might be spoken that could never be taken back by either of them.

He was betting that Cyrus was thinking the same thing, but evidently that wasn't going to stop him from voicing his thoughts.

"I might say the same, sir." No, Cyrus was not letting up. "Either you're having me or she-who-must-not-be-named-in-your-presence followed. Neither one of those scenarios sit well with me."

Fitz moved; he walked over to a side table that held a tray, a crystal decanter of scotch and several glasses. Without looking, he felt Cyrus tense behind him.

He had to admit - he did want a drink. A drink would wash all the thoughts that did not have to do with work from his head. It might take more than one though, it usually did. But it could be done. Fitz had proved it several times before now.

"Why? Isn't that something right out of your playbook? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?" It was his turn for sarcasm. "You should be proud."

"Who's your enemy in this scenario, Mr. President?"

Fitz didn't know the answer to that. Worse, he didn't know if he wanted to. He reached out with one finger to trace the edges of the decanter's faceted stopper. The lure of the liquor called to him. He could always depend on it to stop the questions that hammered in his head at bay even if the effects were only temporary.

It had become something of a habit lately, he knew he shouldn't, but more and more he hadn't really cared.

Behind him, Cyrus shifted. He felt him move closer.

"Am I now the enemy, sir?"

"Of course not." Fitz managed to get out.

"But I'm no longer your friend, am I?"

Fitz turned around. "I never said that!"

"You haven't had to." Cyrus said. "Your actions of late have made that very clear."

"My actions have been of a man dealing with several complex issues at a time with no let up in sight. You might want to remember that."

"I never forget it, Mr. President."

Thankfully, Fitz heard the change of tone in Cyrus' voice. The anger had receded and there was a trace of compassion there instead. He knew that it was probably as close to an apology as he was liable to get.

"I think the same could be said for both of us." Fitz answered.

Fitz turned away from him again. They had just been skating on thin ice for a moment there. What he'd just said was true. Even if he couldn't admit it, he knew that he was not ready to deal with these kind of personal questions right now. There was no room for them right now.

Still, he allowed himself a few moments of reprieve. Was Cyrus right? Was he jealous because the other man still retained some semblance of a relationship with Olivia that he no longer had?

Fitz didn't want to look at the possibility of Cyrus being right too closely. The rational part of his mind recognized that even if the other man was right, that didn't mean that he either liked it or wanted to hear about it. Again, he was tempted to drown that answer along with the first. It was the lesser of two evils and promised to at least take away the pain momentarily.

At the same time, a part of him argued, how could he trust what was coming out of Cyrus' mouth when he knew that he was just as involved in Defiance as Olivia had been? Cyrus had lied to him just as she had lied to him.

Fitz drew his hand back and clenched it into a fist as once again the drink called to him. At least it never lied or led him on with soft lips and a scheming heart. It was what it was - a release - however temporary - from the pain. It promised nothing more.

He had never felt more alone than he did now. It was an aching loneliness claiming him, a heaviness in his gut that nothing could heal. There wasn't enough work in the day, or alcohol in the night to fill the void that lived inside him now.

After all, how could he trust anyone any more?


	7. Chapter 7

For a moment, Fitz forgot that Cyrus was still in the room. Instead, unwillingly, his mind went back over his inner circle that had betrayed him so thoroughly.

They had all had something to gain from his election - Fitz had accepted that as the cost of doing business in American politics. He had just never comprehended just how far they would go to get it.

The Chief of Staff position had always been the unspoken pact between he and Cyrus. But what Cyrus didn't realize was that Fitz knew him better than the other man gave him credit for. Fitz knew that Cyrus saw much of himself in him - the political brilliance and force of personality. He also knew that because of who Cyrus loved, this was as close to the actually gaining the presidency that the older man was ever going to get.

The flip side of the coin was that Fitz knew that he needed Cyrus' ruthlessness along with his single-mindedness of purpose, and that their talents combined would serve the both of them - and the country - very well.

As for the others...

Hollis Doyle - that was simple enough; in repayment for his money and influence, he expected influence in return. But Fitz had been very careful in never promising him anything and had let him know it. The one time he had confronted him on the matter, Hollis had blustered in his customary good old boy way and assured him that he wanted nothing better than what was good for the country. Not that Fitz had believed him for a single minute, but he'd made himself clear. His influence as president was not for sale.

Verna Thorton - she'd wanted the SCOTUS position. That in itself had been no problem. In spite of the venom she'd spewed at the end of her life, before that she'd proven herself to be an excellent jurist and an appointment he'd been proud to make. Her influence and backing had been a welcome asset.

Mellie - she'd never made a secret of her ambitions - just as she never missed a chance to remind him of all she'd sacrificed for him. She wanted the title of First Lady and had proved herself by words and actions - that she would do anything to achieve it. The fact that she'd thought it to be a springboard to something more than the title entailed was a problem every now and then but as long as he knew about her ambitions, it really made it easier for Fitz to keep them in check.

Unwillingly Fitz's mind went on to Olivia, the last member of their conspiracy.

Olivia - what had been her motive? That was a question he still couldn't answer fully. Once he'd learned about this unholy cabal that had claimed it served him, Fitz had made it a point to take the time to analyze and understand their motives. In that he was his father's child - even if no one else knew it.

Once upon a time, he would have been able to claim that the position of Communication Director of Public Affairs for the White House would have been her end game. She'd been surprised when he'd offered her the position. They had both been full of love and hope and joy of the idea of the future that had laid itself out before them.

His heart ached with the memories he didn't want to relive. They hurt too much. Even when they argued - and they'd done that almost as much as they had loved - they knew that they were meant for each other. They were in this thing together.

But then, without warning, Olivia had resigned from the position before she'd given herself any amount of time to gain any real political capital from it.

Fitz still remembered the painful punch to the gut that he'd felt when he'd received her resignation along with the Eisenhower presidential pin - the gift she'd given him the day of his swearing in - she'd given him the night he'd delivered his first State of the Union address.

**Flashback...**

Fitz had been flying high, having received a standing ovation from both sides of the aisle at the end of his first State of the Union address. An ovation that had been spontaneous and surprisingly unmarked by partisan divisiveness. The American people had had enough of it and he had promised to do his best to end it. The ideas that he and Cyrus and Olivia had hammered out during their time at Camp David had spoken to America, and they had responded with enthusiasm and hope.

He remembered returning to the Oval Office, full of jubilance and euphoria, feeling for the first time that tonight, he was truly the president of these united states of America. The people - and the combined groups of senators and representatives - had given him the mandate he'd needed to move the country forward. For this one moment, they were truly "E Pluribus Unum" - out of the many - one.

It was a powerful - and yet humbling - feeling.

He'd walked back into the Oval Office alone, wanting a moment to himself to savor his emotions to the fullest. It felt impossibly good. He felt like his steps were barely touching the ground.

Walking across the room to his desk, his heart was still full of emotions. Seeing the Eisenhower pin on his desk - his inauguration gift from Olivia had been the icing on the cake. It had to be a message from her to him.

He smiled as he picked it up. Touching it, holding it in his hands was almost as good as holding her. If only she had been able to be here to share this moment with him.

Fitz promised himself that he'd call her later - she was the only one he wanted to share his feelings with. It wasn't what he really wanted, but that would have to be good enough. It would be.

At least that was what he'd thought right up until he'd seen the letter that had laid beneath it.

All his happiness evaporated, replaced by a great swooping sense of loss inside. He wanted to be sick.

Fitz read the words over and over again, unable to take in their meaning. She'd resigned. On the night of his first triumphant speech before the nation since taking office, Olivia had left him. And while he didn't have the particulars of it all, deep down inside he'd known the why of it all.

Suddenly empty - and numb with it, Fitz sank into his chair thinking - no, knowing - that he'd lost her forever. Loving her and damning her all at the same time.

He knew it with everything in him. Something had happened that caused her to lay the love she had for him on the altar of the presidency.

Fitz had hated the truth, but knowing who she was, Fitz knew that had been the focus of her choices. And he'd no choice to accept the sacrifice she was making. Not that it made the understanding any less difficult to accept. From the day he'd decide to run for the presidency, Fitz had begun because he'd been ready to give his all to his country

So how could he possible blame her for doing the same?

**... End Flashback**

How could he reconcile that Olivia with the same woman who had conspired with the others to put him where he was now? He loved her - no, he hated her. He needed to hate her.

His heart didn't know what to do except to hurt. Knowing that did not help his temper in the here and now. Knowing that was another elephant in the room.

"You haven't answered my questions, sir."

Cyrus' words brought him back to the present. Fitz turned around and glared at him. Did he need it spelled out for him? He didn't trust Olivia, not like he had before. Before she had betrayed him.

"Is there anything about your conversation with her that I need to know?"

Cyrus looked him directly in the eye. "No sir," he said stiffly. "There is not. Our conversation was of a - personal nature."

Fitz didn't know if he should be happy about that or not. After a long moment, he nodded, his reaction as unyielding as Cyrus' had been.

The two men stood and stared at each other, neither one of them willing to give ground first.

Fitz broke the tableau by walking away from the scotch and its unspoken promise. Instead, he moved to one of the windows and stared blindly through it while his thoughts and feelings fought one against the other. "Very well then. Question asked and answered."

"If there is anything else you wanted, sir?"

Fitz began to ache inside as the adrenaline drained from his body. Suddenly he felt very, very tired and wanted nothing more than to be left alone for whatever little time he had left before the next set of responsibilities came knocking on his door. He shook his head and stood silently as Cyrus turned and walked to the door.

Cyrus stopped, but didn't turn around. He did, however, have one more thing to say and when he said it, his voice was surprisingly soft.

"The answer to your first question, sir, is that Olivia Pope is doing about the same as you, Mr. President. She's working hard, probably too hard - doing her job, and is probably not getting enough sleep. But beneath it all, down deep where she thinks nobody can see, she's unhappy -" Cyrus paused. "well, she's unhappy too."

The door closed quietly behind him.

Fitz sank slowly back into his chair, his thoughts already elsewhere. He sat in silence for a long moment, all alone with his thoughts. After a time, Fitz reached for his phone.

"Get me a secure line, please."


	8. Chapter 8

Cyrus' mood wasn't improved by the sight of the First Lady hovering in the outer office, obviously waiting for a chance to see her husband in private. He almost felt sorry for the president in that moment. Their marriage was little more than a political front, had been from the very beginning, but they had the majority of America fooled.

"Mrs. Grant." he said politely.

"Cyrus." she returned his greeting with a gracious nod that didn't fool him. They were never the best of friends on a good day. And right now, today was not a good day for him.

"How is my husband today?" she asked brightly, the very picture of wifely concern. Her laugh was perfect in pitch, the kind meant to project warmth and sincerity.

But Cyrus was one of a very few who knew how very false it truly was. He shrugged in response. "He's busy being the president."

"Well, I'm here to see if I can get him to abdicate the throne - for a few minutes, anyway. I have a surprise for him."

Cyrus narrowed his gaze as he looked at her, trying to fathom the meaning behind her words. Surprises from Mellie were not necessarily a good thing.

"May I speak with you a moment, Mrs. Grant?" His words weren't really a true question, underscored by the fact that Cyrus took her by the arm before she could answer and guided her out into the hallway. Luckily, it was momentarily cleared of staff, leaving them in a pocket of privacy.

"Just what kind of surprise did you have in mind?" he asked.

Mellie pulled free of his grip and glared at him, dropping any pretense of friendliness. "Nothing that's any of your business, Cyrus."

"Anything you do concerning the president is my business, in case you've forgotten." he reminded her. "Do I need to ask you again?"

"In case you've forgotten, these days, you're a little outside Fitz's inner circle." Mellie hissed, careful to keep her voice down. "What decisions I make are none of your affair."

No matter how quiet her voice might be, there was no mistaking the malicious pleasure in her words. "I'm in - and you're out. If my husband - the president - decides to inform you of our plans after the fact, then he'll do so. But considering his behavior towards you of late, I doubt that he will - am I right? I think so."

Studying the satisfaction that was written all over her, Cyrus realized that she'd waited for far too long for a situation like this to come along. All the while as the president had become withdrawn from his inner circle - and they had all more or less attributed that to the assassination attempt and its aftermath - Mellie had been quick to start weaving a web around him, one meant to isolate him and grant her access to the president's power and influence without interference.

And now she thought she had it.

_Just let her be herself and sooner rather than later, Mellie will hang herself. She's her own worst enemy and she doesn't even know it._

Remembering the advice Olivia had once given him concerning Mellie, Cyrus smiled at her - a shark's grin, toothy, devoid of humor and razor sharp around the edges. He waved his hand upwards.

"Oh, we both know he's not too happy with anyone at the moment."

"Fitz is happy enough with me right now." Mellie said smugly.

"Right now." Cyrus laughed at her words and then went on as though she hadn't spoken. "Pay attention, Madame First Lady, because here is what's happening - true enough, it's a momentary tiff we're having, Fitz and I. And right now, you think your star is finally rising and you're about to get every thing you've ever wanted.

"I get it - you're thrilled about the situation the way that things stand right now. But take this as advice if you're smart, or fact if you'd rather ignore my advice - the relationship between the president and his chief of staff isn't over. Like any long term relationship, there will always be bumps in the road and this is one of them.

"But the time will come when we'll be in sync again soon enough and then together we'll be better than ever. Unfortunately, you can't say the same. Your romance with Fitz was over long ago - if it ever existed at all. Don't delude yourself into thinking that anything has changed on that score. Otherwise, you're in for a rude awakening."

"So, take my advice and you have a good day." He turned and walked away before she could reply. Cyrus smiled to himself. The rest of the day suddenly felt like it might get a little better before it was done.

XXX

Mellie seethed behind Cyrus Beene's back, but there was nothing she could do, short of running behind him to do what - argue? Create a scene? That would do damage to her image. And Millicent Grant, First Lady of the United States, would never do anything to damage that image.

Instead, she smoothed the rage out of her face and put a more pleasant expression on before turning back to the outer office of the Oval.

Another smile and a little pressure and his secretary informed her that the president had nothing scheduled for at least another twenty minutes. Perfect - it fit in just perfect with her own plans. Hopefully, she could do something with that.


	9. Chapter 9

Fitz was just hanging up his phone as he heard the knock on the door. Unknowing, he frowned as he saw his wife enter.

"Mellie? I'm busy today." He actually had at least twenty minutes before his next meeting and he'd looked forward to having a few moments to himself. But now, it looked like he wasn't going to get it. "Is something wrong? The kids?"

"No, I'm happy to say." Mellie said, smiling at him as she crossed the room. "Actually, my concern is with you today."

"Me?" Fitz was puzzled. "I'm fine. Why are you concerned about me today?"

"Why Fitz, I'm your wife - I'm concerned about you every day." She answered smoothly as she spread her hands out in a conciliatory gesture. "Nothing really - it's just that you work so hard. It's been a long day, and I'm sure you have the rest of it totally mapped out ahead of you. But the sun has finally come out from behind the clouds for a bit and I thought - we should take advantage of it and spend a little time outside..."

"Mellie, could you get to the point, please." He really wasn't in the mood for this, but Fitz struggled to be polite to his wife. That was the right term for them. Polite.

The little laugh she gave then, alerted him that she had a plan in mind. And the little shrug of the shoulders she gave was anything but nonchalant - they'd been married too long for her to trick him with it. While his face didn't change, inside, he tensed.

"Mellie?"

"It's nothing really - I had a surprise visitor - visitors, actually - and we got to chatting about this and that, and it came to me that you might like to join us for at least a cup of tea..."

She was talking quickly now, and Fitz came to full alert. "Just who is this surprise visitor, Mellie?"

Something crept into her eyes. "Oh, it's just Hollis Doyle."

Fitz's hands eased themselves into fists. "You said visitors, Mellie. Who else?"

"He came with a guest of his own. An Ardaran Farouk - you know, I believe he is an actual prince." Her eyes brightened with achievement.

Fitz's mind raced; the name was vaguely familiar. In a moment, he recalled what he knew of him. The House of Farouk was a part of the former royalty of Iran, a very wealthy part. They played down their formerly royal ties to a great extent - a wise thing to do in these turbulent days. But they'd managed to hold on to the majority of their oil-rich lands - and therefore their wealth.

Politically, they kept their distance from the government for the most part. Briefly, Fitz wondered if they could be of help in his own current hostage crisis, but he doubted it. And even if they could, he would not approach them through any conduit that included Hollis Doyle. He'd never consent to give a man like that any amount of political coin for him to cash in on down the road.

And Mellie should have known better.

"Not happening." Fitz said. He watched her face change as she realized what she should have seen from the start, that her husband would balk at having any dealings with Hollis.

That didn't mean she'd give up easily. Mellie tried to go all innocent on him.

"Fitz, I know Hollis is not one of your favorite people - but he did help us during the campaign. Would it really hurt anything if you were to sit down across the table from him and have a simple cup of tea.

"I don't like tea."

"Well, coffee, then." his wife replied. "It's not like this was a state dinner or a formal treaty signing, is it?"

"No, Mellie, it's not." Fitz answered her. "But it's also not an occasion for Hollis Doyle to flaunt his association with the White House and the president in front of a foreign national without previous contact or consent."

A little desperation crept into her voice. "Fitz, won't you at least just consider it. I mean, I promised Hollis..."

"When it comes to my meetings, you have no right to promise anyone any thing." Fitz said, allowing a thread of anger to weave its way into his voice as he came stiffly to his feet. "You do not set White House protocol, Mellie - and you know that!"

"I was just trying to help." Mellie shot back. "I mean, I thought maybe he could help you with the hostage situation"

"Did you tell Hollis that?" he erupted; his hands slammed down on his desktop even as his voice escalated to a near-shout. When would she learn that her position as First Wife was not to create policy at this or any other time? How many times had they argued about this very thing.

Now the so-called closeness and caring that she'd been exhibiting for the last few months made themselves crystal clear to him. Once again, she'd thought she would be able to manipulate him to a place where he would grant her a portion of the power she craved.

Well, if she'd wanted political power, she should have ran for office herself. Instead, she'd chosen the path of a political wife and the reins it put her had frustrated her ambitions.

While all of this was going through his mind, Mellie had stood there, shocked and silent at his response.

He glared at her, out of patience. "Answer me!"

A little frightened now, she shook her head.

He glanced upwards. "Thank You for small mercies." he muttered.

Fitz came around the desk to stand face to face before her. He wanted to make sure that she understood him clearly. "That man is never to be privy to the doings of this office. He is to never have a say in policies either domestic or foreign."

Fitz fixed a steely gaze on his wife. "Have I made myself clear?

He could see clearly that she wanted to answer him back in the same tones he'd used to address her, but at this point, she didn't quite dare it. Teeth clenched into a frozen mask of a smile, she answered him.

"Crystal."

With a great effort, he damped down his anger. Fitz turned away from her and forced himself back into his seat. He reached for a folder on his desk.

"Just so that we're clear here - the answer is no, Mellie. When it comes to Hollis Doyle, the answer more than likely will always be no - unless I deem it otherwise. Not you, and not him. Me, the president of the United States will decide whom I see and whom I will not see - and when it happens.

"Right now, I have far weightier concerns on my plate - including the fate of five Americans who are being held against their will in a foreign, hostile land. I have no time to play tea service.

"So you go now and do the best you can to pull yourself out of the mess you caused. Smile prettily at Hollis and his guest and play the gracious First Lady."

"And just how am I supposed to explain your absence?" Mellie asked through gritted teeth

"I. Don't. Care. Tell them whatever you like - I'd suggest something along the lines of the affairs of state and so on. Just do not impugn the integrity of this administration any more than you already have - then get them both the hell off of the White House grounds."

He dropped his eyes back down to the papers before him, knowing that Mellie would take it as the dismissal it was meant to be.

Just before she reached the door, he spoke once more, without bothering to look up.

"And Mellie, be very, very careful that nothing like this ever happens again."

There was a moment's silence. Then she answered, her voice brittle and light. "Of course, Fitz."


	10. Chapter 10

The team were all gathered in the OPA war room. Harrison placed the picture of their possibly newest client, Shireen Davis onto the evidence wall and they all took a moment to study her face.

Shireen Davis was an attractive woman in her early thirties with medium- light brown skin, and a no-nonsense demeanor that contradicted the hint of laughter in her large, expressive eyes. She wore a minimum of make-up and wore her hair in a mass of tiny braids held back from her face in a neat updo.

"Shireen Davis." Harrison began. "Age thirty-one, a civilian computer technician who works within the Pentagon complex. Her job is research and development. The reason she wants to hire us is because according to her, she's either being wooed or stalked - or both by someone. Due to the nature of the contacts, she believes that it's someone that also works with her and may be some higher-up.

"She isn't quite sure who it is - but she doesn't want anything happening that might affect her job. She likes what she does and just wants to be able to continue doing it."

"So why does she need us?" Quinn asked. "If she reports the idiot, an agency like that would hate a media scandal, so I'd think one whiff of impropriety and - poof - he's gone."

"You would think she'd do just that." Abby said as her eyes narrowed. She had very little patience with abusers of any sort - with good reason from her own painful past. "Slap him with a sexual harassment suit, collect a pile of money and take early retirement."

Harrison shook his head. "She doesn't want to initiate a harassment suit, because she doesn't want the attention it would focus on her. We haven't been able to gather a lot of information about her real job, it's buried that deep."

"Financials?" Olivia asked. They had to cover all possibilities with a potential client before they agreed to take them on. "Is it possible that she's just a mistress who's tired of her lover and wants out?"

Harrison shook his head. "She doesn't need anyone's money." he continued. "She's not only independently wealthy, but something of an heiress."

He went on to details. "Shireen Davis does what she does because she enjoys her work and she's very, very good at it." He looked to Huck, who had been working on his laptop uncovering more information to add to what Harrison and Abby had been able to uncover thus far.

Huck caught Harrison's glance and after quick look at his laptop, took over. "It's not on the common nets, but Shireen Davis has an alpha-zeta five point nine five clearance level. Short term - that means it will take me a little more time than usual to get any real information on her than the regular stuff out there that any one can access.

"I can guess this much though - there are a few departments within the intelligence sector community whose work is never spoken about. They usually spend their days dealing with cyber-terrorism. And while her cover occupation is R & D, I'd bet her actual work covers a lot more than that."

"You know all of this from her - what - alpha-five point clearance level?" Abby asked.

"Alpha-zeta five point nine five." Huck corrected her. "I did manage to slip in an ultra-fine ionic ping on a secured data pipeline which led me into the cortex of..."

His words trailed of as Huck watched the looks on his colleagues' faces shifted to expressions of incomprehension. He paused for a moment to translate in his head what he knew into english before he continued.

"The simplest way to explain this is like this - officially, in military ratings, the highest one is an alpha five point zero. Unofficially, if you test out over that, the government puts you in special ops. Officially, Shireen Davis is a alpha five point zero. Looks good on her evals, guarantees her position and her pay grade.

"Unofficially, she's an alpha-zeta five point nine five. That high a clearance gets you the chance to play in a much more sophisticated sandbox than your average data handler."

He paused to think. "Outwardly she's assigned to research and development; but I'd bet that she's really assigned to some very secret division within the military intelligence sector. Seeing how she's assigned to the Pentagon itself, she probably works in either intelligence, code-ciphering or cyber-crimes."

While the team was digesting that, Huck gave them a number to use for comparison -knowing otherwise they'd never understand her ratings level. "In one of my lasting testing series, I was rated an alpha-zeta six point nine eight five."

That explained a lot to the team. They tried not to show it, but they were further surprised at what Huck said next. What he told them let them into the other part of his life more than they were usually allowed.

"Of course, they found out that my true skills lay in other - area - so my training focus was shifted from tech-intel and development into fieldwork."

He shrugged and the gesture was almost a casual one. "Of course, I've learned a little more since leaving the service."

That caught everyone's attention. With the exception of Olivia - and she knew that she didn't know the extent of his former work - was mostly secret and definitely one that wasn't discussed. But there was no doubt that he had worked in Black Ops acquiring deadly and efficient skills along the way.

But his technical skills were phenomenal and the fact that this woman's work rating level was even anywhere close to his said something all by itself.

Olivia began walking back and forth, as she usually did when she was thinking. "Dealing with cyber-terrorism? Code-breaking? Creating or defending?" She wondered aloud.

Huck shrugged again. "I couldn't say. It probably depends on the day of the week."

Olivia stopped pacing the length of the room. "You said she's independently wealthy - how so?"

Huck pulled up the intel he'd gathered so far. "This is all just preliminary work, of course, but Shireen Davis owns outright a few patents on a several sweet pieces of software, and has a piece of the pie on some implementation hardware as well. The government has licensed the majority of it and also pays her very handsomely not to sell or lease them to any one else. Any one at all. Her encryptions keys and intrusion marks - the ones I can get a surface glance at - are - admirable."

His mouth quirked briefly in a smile. "If I had had access to some of her work back when in the day..." he caught himself as he saw the looks the others were giving him and came back to the subject at hand.

"I'm guessing that she doesn't want to use her skills that way. It could tip whoever's after her just how high her ratings really are."

"How can you be sure of that?" Abby asked.

"It's what I would do. The measure of response on an initial contact can tell you a lot your subject - if they're not careful. Her actions show that she's careful. " There was no mistaking the approval in his voice.

"I can say that what I got from her in our first meeting was that at the end of the day, she just wants to make the whole thing go away." Harrison said. "Now whether we should accept that on face value or not might be hard to say."

"Does that sound suspicious to anybody else?" Olivia asked.

They all looked at one another as they tried to formulate their responses, but it was Abby who spoke first. "I guess it depends on what kind of woman she is. Some women would love to threaten to run screaming to the press in hopes of a big pay-day."

"But some wouldn't." Quinn spoke up next. As usual, lately she was perched somewhere close to Huck. Olivia found it amusing in a way that the two of them seemed to have taken on the roles of mentor and student - of all the people in the office, Quinn had gravitated towards Huck.

"Sometimes the direct route is the truth. She might really want nothing more than to be left alone. The question is why? First we look at the obvious," Quinn said, looking to Huck for approval. Seeing him nod, she continued.

"We know that she doesn't need the money, and if she's working for the government in a highly secretive and technical levels, then she doesn't want the fame - or in this case, infamy - either."

"Which, of course, is where we come in." Harrison said. "We catch the creep, we shut him down and everything else takes care of itself."

"There's another reason why she might not want the attention a public accusation would bring." Huck picked up from there. "You get brought into a certain level of government work and this is what you are taught - any kind of outside information that concerns your identity is a bad thing for her - it might be easier to just let her go, transfer her out of her department into something a little more visible - and a little more vulnerable."

"Vulnerable to what?" Olivia asked.

"If we take her on, that's something I'd have to look in on a little closer before I could take any kind of educated guess. But if she's released from a top-security position, she becomes a liability... and when that happens..."

"When that happens, we all know that sometimes the government deals with liabilities in all kinds of ways. And some of them aren't so - nice." Olivia finished the thought. She had already seen up close and personal what that could entail and it wasn't anything she wanted to dwell on. "I assume that she would know that."

"I'd have to sit down and have a one on one with her, but -"Huck nodded. " - with her rating, levels of access and the mind that goes with it, she would know - things."

"There's another piece to her puzzle that we have to factor in." Harrison added. "Her mother is Jocelyn Davis-Martin."

Olivia had been pacing back and forth, taking in the information her team was giving her and mulling it over. She stopped and her head came up. " _The_ Jocelyn Martin?"

Harrison nodded.

Quinn looked confused. "Who is she?"

Olivia answered her. "Her mother is a former ambassador for the middle eastern regions several years ago who now plays a much more quiet and less visible role within the White House administration as Special Advisor to the National Security Council on Diplomatic Affairs. She was a protege of Hilary Clinton and worked on her staff for several years.

"I've met her several times, but never the daughter - she's a lovely woman. Very quiet, very soft-spoken and usually keeps to herself, but very, very knowledgable on the who-who's of the region."

Olivia paused to recall what else she knew about the older woman. "Her background is a pretty open book: she was a part of the last administration as a diplomat.

"Jocelyn Martin specialized in international banking and technology. Registered Independent; but when she offered her resignation, President Grant refused to accept it and kept her on. He told her that her work was too good to be wasted in the private sector. She could have gone on and collected a huge paycheck from any number of corporations or universities, but turned them all down."

"She put country first." Abby commented.

"Well," Quinn commented. "Sounds like it's a case of like mother, like daughter. What about the father?"

"None ever named." Abby said. "Jocelyn Davis-Martin raised her only child as a single mother, her studies led her into international finance and apparently she developed enough of a highly respected reputation that she was asked to join the last administration in the first months of that presidency as a reward for very good behavior. She married well, to a lobbyist by the name of Michael Martin and they appear to be happy enough."

"That could or could not be a factor in what's happening to Shireen Davis. In your meeting with her, did she mention her mother at all?"

"No," Harrison answered. "But that didn't send any particular red flags up. She could just be a grown woman trying to handle a work issue without running to momma to fix it."

Olivia thought about that. Her gut had no opinion one way or the other yet, but she wasn't trusting it or herself one hundred percent these days. She decided that until she met the woman face to face, she wouldn't make any decision either way.

"Well, at the very least, it sounds like we need to have a conversation with Ms. Davis before we proceed any further. So let's make that happen."


	11. Chapter 11

A few days later, Olivia agreed to meet with Shireen Davis. In light of her circumstances, she was understandably nervous about coming to OPA offices, so Olivia had Abby arrange a meeting for them at the Corcoran Art Gallery since every Wednesday evening, the art gallery featured an open reception and exhibition event, complete with light foods and drink. Any number of people could be there without any direct implication of anything other than enjoying the art exhibits.

Quinn, Huck and Harrison were also there, but each had arrived separately. Not surprisingly, Huck had volunteered for exterior surveillance duties, while Quinn and Harrison were circling through the crowds, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Olivia and Abby quickly found Shireen Davis in their prearranged designated meeting place in one of the smaller exhibit rooms.

The exhibit tonight was featuring photos and artwork of women in power; Olivia had thought it appropriate. It took a multiple of factors to feed her gut and help her make the decision as to whether or not to take on a new client. Whenever she had the luxury of observing them without them knowing it, she took it.

So when they reached the pre-arranged art room, she laid a hand on Abby's arm so that they could check Shireen Davis out, unnoticed. Olivia would be asking Abby about her impressions later.

Looking slightly different from the work picture they had acquired, tonight Shireen had chosen to wear her hair down, her locs tumbling down past her shoulders in soft waves. She was simply dressed, in black slacks and shirt, with a gray cape swirled about her shoulders. The only thing that was outstanding about her was the brooch pinned at her right shoulder. That surprised Olivia somewhat; it looked like it could be an art piece all on it's own.

She appeared to be studying the wall-sized mosaic of Hilary Clinton, the former Secretary of State, hard enough to be lost in it.

"Stunning, isn't it?" Olivia murmured as she came to stand beside her. Without looking directly at her, she nodded a greeting. "Ms. Davis."

"You're Olivia Pope." the other woman said before Olivia could finish her introduction. "I know who you are."

The younger woman nodded a greeting to Abby before she turned to face Olivia; there was a trace of fear in her eyes. But anger too. Olivia liked that. If Shireen Davis was a fighter, it would be a help.

"So, do you think you can help me?" she asked.

Olivia made a motion and they started walking around the perimeter of the room, stopping every now and then as if they were studying the art. "That depends." she said.

"On what?" Shireen asked.

"It's very important that our clients be absolutely honest with us. Anything you hold back could make our work for you harder - if not impossible."

Abby added to what Olivia said. "To get at the truth, we may need to examine your life in more detail than you might find comfortable. So if you have any surprises we need to know about, now would be a very good time to tell us."

Shireen looked around at the drifting clusters of people. "Now?" she asked uncertainly.

"Not this second, necessarily, but this is why we suggest that you come to our offices where we can insure your confidentiality."

Shireen still looked doubtful. "I'm sure that your people have told you about my predicament; so if someone is watching me, then wouldn't they see me going to your place of business? What happens then?" She tried not to look around them. "What if whoever it is is watching me right now?"

"Have they ever made contact with you when you're just out and about?"

"No, just when I'm home." Shireen said. "The fact that they could break through my firewalls.."

"No doubt disturbs you." Olivia finished the sentence for her. "Since I have it on very good authority that your technological skills are considerable - seeing how you have an alpha-zeta rating, isn't it? - I can see why you're uneasy."

Shireen Davis looked startled for a moment, hearing her classified ratings being discussed so easily then set herself to relax. "You've done your homework." It wasn't a question, but an acknowledgment.

That earned her another point in Olivia's book. Her gut was beginning to approve of this one.

"Due diligence." she answered. "And for your own reassurance, let me tell you that I think that it's safe to say that your safety and security are probably fine here - my people are here keeping an eye on things just to be on the safe side and so far we've seen nothing out of the ordinary to be concerned about."

At Olivia's words, the other woman relaxed her guard just a little. "And it there were?"

"We'd handle it."

Shireen seemed to pause and think about Olivia's words for a moment before she nodded. It seemed OPA had passed a test of their own.

The three women walked on to the next exhibit, but something subtle had changed between them - a silent agreement had been reached.

"Do you have a business card on you?" Abby asked her.

The other woman nodded yes.

"Good, give us one."

Puzzled, she fumbled in her shoulder bag and handed a card to both women. Abby pulled out one of her own and nodded at Olivia to do the same. Olivia picked up on what she was doing immediately and did what the redhead asked.

Abby explained. "Just on the off-chance someone is watching us, all they've seen is three women meeting at an art gallery and exchanging business cards. We're just networking."

Olivia finished the thought aloud. "Now, we can call you openly and ask for a consultation. After all, you come highly recommended by those that know of you and it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that we would call you in for security consultations."

That made the other woman sigh a little sigh of relief. "I think that might work. All of us in R & D are known for taking side jobs. As long as they don't create conflicts of interest, they're usually not made a big deal of."

She smiled a bit. "We're geeks and it's sort of understood that we like to play in different sandboxes. You'll be vetted of course..."

"I doubt that this will be a problem. We have a guy..."

Shireen smiled. "I had no doubt that you did. We're allowed to step outside our jobs to a certain extent."

Her lips twisted in a wry grin. "They indulge us techie people to a point. They know we can't resist playing outside the sandbox. Simple jobs, like security phone lines and data streams, optic refinements..." without thinking about it, she started rambling off in tech-speak. She did catch herself and had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Not to worry. Abby said with a grin. "There's somebody we know who's going to love meeting you."

Olivia found herself satisfied that Shireen Davis knew what was going to be required of her and was willing to accept it. After that, there was no reason why OPA shouldn't be willing to take her case.

There would be a final discussion between her and the rest of the team as well as their initial meeting with Shireen Davis at the OPA offices. But until then, there really wasn't anything left to discuss, so the meeting came to a quick ending.

Abby, using her skills as an investigator, was the one to instruct Shireen not to leave right away, but to instead let herself drift with the crowds for a little bit. She even went so far as to advise Shireen to maybe even strike up some idle conversation with some of the other people there as she mingled among the rest of the attendees of the exhibit.

Shireen nodded and took herself away from them.

After she had gone, Abby and Olivia made a point of following the same took their time strolling about the entire exhibit, and even managed to enjoy themselves a little.

Olivia did remark that she'd found herself pleased to have seen that some of the anxiety in the other woman's eyes had seemed to be a little less evident than when they had first met.

"What did you think?" Olivia asked Abby as she drove her back to OPA. Everyone else had already left for the night, but since Abby had ridden to the Corcoran with Olivia, her car was still back at the office.

"She's telling the truth as far as I can tell."Abby said. "The look that was in her eyes - well, can I just say that I know that look a little too well. She's not faking it."

Olivia nodded; the fact that Abby wound have been able to spot such B.S. a mile a way is why she'd asked Abby to accompany her in the first place. Not that Abby wasn't a crack investigator on her own, but her painful past with her own stalkerish and abusive ex-husband gave her that extra radar that Olivia knew she didn't have.

It's what made OPA such an efficient firm; ll of them brought their own experience to the table and that was what had made them the success they were today.

Olivia made her decision. "If we're lucky, it's just some hotshot higher-up in her department with the hots for her. She's beautiful enough - different enough from the usual geek mode that it could happen. All we have to do is uncover him, go digging in his closets for just enough dirt to bury him if necessary, then tell him to play nice and back off."

Abby grinned. "A nice, fun case, then. We haven't had enough of those lately. Instead, we've had a little too much doom and gloom of late."

Olivia cast a sideways look at her; of course Abby would call this fun. Taking down an obnoxious unwanted suitor who was willing to use his power to take what wasn't offered. She tried not to grin, but she couldn't say that she didn't agree.

"Watch," Abby promised. "We're going to have fun with this. We _deserve_ some fun."

Fun, indeed.

 _We'll see,_ Olivia thought.


	12. Chapter 12

Later that evening, Olivia was seated on the floor in her living room. Her coffee table was her impromptu desk tonight. She worked for hours, making notes and filing papers away into several folders scattered before her while reviewing some of the firm's caseloads.

After all, the better she kept her mind occupied, the better for her, period.

There was light enough from both the table lamp behind her and the tv across the room to light her space with a cool fluorescent glow. It suited her mood better than the warm lights of the wall sconces. Cool and efficient - that was all she needed to be these days. Anything else might prove to be hazardous to her health.

As usual, she had the channel set to one that was all-news. Its volume was set low, just enough for the voices to keep her company, but not enough to interfere with her thoughts.

After a time, something - something that she would never know - managed to pierce her concentration. Olivia looked up just as the current talking head spoke the president's name. That must have been what had caught her attention. She reached for the remote control and turned up the sound.

"Sources say that President Grant is seeking a diplomatic solution if it's at all possible regarding the hostages - but other anonymous sources have made it clear that the opinion of those who are working behind the scenes is that they are certain that the president will not hesitate to use force if it becomes necessary."

The screen switched to the image of one the of White House correspondents. Recognizing him, Olivia sat up straighter and paid closer attention, analyzing his words - she knew how the commentator game was played.

"We're live at the White House, as President Grant is about to give an unscheduled briefing to the American people. There are many who are surprised at the break of tradition, while others are declaring it no surprise at all. Fitzgerald Grant had always promised as much transparency as he could in the defense of national security."

The first commentator broke in. "And as much as some might want to discredit him, these are some of the promises he made during his campaign. Transparency balanced with the protection of our nation. President Grant has always sought a balance between the two."

The screen switched to the podium of the White House press room. Moments later he came striding in with that familiar peculiar rhythm to his steps. Olivia felt a pang of remembrance. She had never failed to be affected at the litheness in his walk.

In an impeccable tailored suit, with her beloved american pin in his lapel, the president took his place behind the podium. He paused there for a minute, looking about to see who his live audience would be. The group of reporters poised themselves, ready to begin hurling questions at him.

Fitzgerald Grant shook his head slightly as he raised both hands. That brought a wave of half-whispered murmurs and questions among the reporters. He waited until they fell into a respectable silence.

"I am not taking questions at this time. " he began. "What I am here for is to ensure that the American people understand very clearly what is going on and what I plan to do."

He turned his gaze from the reporters and looked directly into one of the cameras as he fully prepared to share his thoughts with the nation. The camera's view zoomed in to show the upper part of his body in an almost full facial shot.

Olivia felt a pang in her heart as she found herself able to feel the intensity in his gaze. Unbidden, she couldn't help but remember how he had once looked on her with that same diamond-sharp focus.

Her body and heart remembered all too well as echoes of his glances rippled through her body with a sensation that was half-pleasure and half-pain.

She knew that not only for her heart's sake but for her soul's ache, she should change the channel. She couldn't bring herself to do it

. His image was as it always was, strong, confident; his voice deep enough to be commanding, but it held a gentle strength in it that the American people could take refuge in. The thick curls on his head were combed back and tamed, its naturally unruliness captured in place as always.

But she could remember how loose those curls could be when her fingers ran through it; how a few particular locks would always fall over his brow - his "Superman curl" she always called it... It had made the both of them laugh and his laughter had always filled her with such joy...

His voice filled her now. "We will not bow down to naked tyranny and aggression. We will not surrender to intimidation. Yet at the same time, we want to make it clear that we are always open to hear those who feel that their voices are silenced. Because all voices matter.

"But know this - this is not the path to peace and understanding. Dialogue, not hostage-taking or extortion is what is necessary now."

While he continued to speak, what he was saying blurred the past and the present until Olivia heard other words. They were so strong in her mind that she dared not close her eyes lest she see him in all the ways she loved him. Strong, compassionate, the way he used to look at her with all the love in the world in his eyes.

It was enough to hear his voice, the way it dropped down to an intimate rumble that never failed to make her insides quiver. How many times had she heard it?

_"Just one minute..."_

_"...You own me! I belong to you!... I love you...I'm in love with you...You are the love of my life..."_

_"...So, we are in this together."_

_"We're in this together."_

She'd had no choice but to echo his truth.

_"...Tell me to stop calling you - tell me you don't want to hear from me."_

Hearing the words he'd once spoken only to her superimposed on what was actually being said by the image on the screen gave Olivia a sense of unreality that she found hard to shake.

Just like then, in the here and now, she had no ready answer, but this time she knew that he wouldn't call her. More than likely, he would never speak to her again. And she'd more than earned his enmity.

Olivia knew - more than any people knew - how much the knowledge of Defiance had to have crushed him.

Cyrus had been the one to point it out and there was nothing there for her to argue against. Some men were destined to be great, he'd explained to her once. It didn't mean they were meant to be happy.

Be-damned she was if she couldn't see what he was saying. His words were fresh in her mind tonight. Her heart ached as she acknowledged the part she'd played in it all - no matter what reasons she's had at the time.

Knowing what they had, she knew all too well how much the knowledge of her betrayal had hurt him. That's what he had named it to her face. She knew that had had to hurt had and she was defenseless before it, having nothing to deny it with. Her guilt in his eyes was justified and nothing she could deny or refute.

 _But he had never given her a chance to explain._ Unfair - but life was unfair...

Knowing all of this - feeling all of this, Olivia still couldn't tear her eyes away from the image of his. For a moment it wasn't President Grant she was seeing. It wasn't Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III.

All she saw, all she heard was her Fitz. It was her Fitz standing before her; relaxed and happy as he used to be whenever he was with her. The way he stood a little straighter, shone a little brighter as he took the strength and support from her that she always was willing to give.

They could be standing across the opposite ends of an auditorium, and all it took was a single glance to feel the bond between them. They could be as close as they were on the day of his father's funeral and all it did was confirm how much they meant to one another and it had been so easy to believe that they would always be there for one another.

It could be the very first night they had spent together, when they had found something together that they both had thought was only the stuff of fairy tales.

It was his voice reassuring her that he loved her, that she was the love of his life, that he would never let her go.

_"Tell me what to do."_

His voice was like warm honey in her ear. She was always telling him that he shouldn't be calling, but the truth was, she couldn't stay away from him any more than he could from her.

_"Let me go."_

As much as it would hurt, she knew it was the best for the both of them. More him than her, but that was all was the only reason she's said it. Even if it was a lie. Truthfully, she wanted him to never, ever let her go.

_"Anything but that."_

His words were only her heart's desire. She had never told him that. Now she never would.

Maybe it had been something that had never needed saying. He couldn't walk away from her any more than she could. Only he was brave enough, strong enough, to say it aloud.

They were in this - together. There was no denying that what they felt for one another - it was love. Love in all its magnificence, and all of its crazy, life-changing explosiveness that had burst unexpectedly into both of their lives with the force with a thousand suns. It had been everything she had ever dreamed of and had never believed it could happen. She'd had it all.

Until her lies - her betrayal - had blown them apart.


	13. Chapter 13

The president leaned forward, looking into the camera; Olivia felt as though he were looking into the buried depths of her heart.

"So this is what I say to those who have kidnapped Americans who sought nothing more than to do good in your country - the next step is yours. At this point, your choices will determine our response. I ask you now - to choose carefully and wisely."

She heard the pride and strength in his voice. He was everything that she had ever wanted him to be as a president. Everything that made him who he was was pushed aside as she watched him walk off of the podium.

In the midst of all her tangled emotions, Olivia felt her heart swell with loving pride. This was her president, this was America's president. This was the man she'd believed in from the first time she'd gotten to know who he really was. This was the man who was more than worthy to lead his country forward.

He was the man she'd fallen utterly and totally in love with and who still held her heart in his hands. Olivia suspected that he always would. Even if it meant that there would always be a void in her soul where she needed him to be.

He was gone. Forever. And it was time she accepted that fact, not only in her mind, but in her heart.

One night a short time later, Olivia was still doing her best to drown her sorrows in work. She stayed late in the office, doing paperwork she could have easily finished up at home, but trying instead to work herself to the point that she would arrive home too tired to do anything else but sleep.

She let her associates handle the rest of the operations; Olivia found herself wanting to neither see to talk to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary.

As she drove herself home that night, she remembered that she needed to make a stop to replenish her wine stock. Glancing at the clock, she saw that she had just enough time to make it to one of her favorite wine specialty shops that was also close to hon the way before they closed.

The store owner greeted her personally, made a few recommendations, knowing her tastes and then - knowing his customer - discretely let her be.

Olivia spent a few moments looking over the wines, trying to decide what she was in the mood for. She was planning on trying some garlic butter on her popcorn tonight; maybe she should ask someone what went well with garlic. She smiled to herself at the thought.

"That's what I've been looking for - a friendly smiling face to save me!"

His voice was unfamiliar. But definitely male. And nice. Olivia turned around to see who it belonged to. Who it belonged to looked very nice indeed. He had some military in him, resulting in a lithe, smoothly muscled frame. A strong face with carved features and full lips. Without realizing it, her smile lingered on her face in response to his.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"I'm sorry if I look like I'm bothering you." he said, moving closer. "I promise, I'm harmless."

He looked around, spreading his hands in mock despair. "To tell the truth, I'm not only harmless, I'm helpless!"

Olivia couldn't help but laugh. He was being outrageous on purpose. But she liked it. Olivia realized that she hadn't laughed out loud in a very long time.

 _We deserve some fun._ Abby's voice echoed in her head. And maybe Abby was right.

"Tell me that you'll help me in my wine choice."

"You could always ask the people that work here - that is their job you know."

"And betray my utter ignorance for all the world to see?" Are you as cruel as you are beautiful?" His eyes sparkled with mute appeal. "Tell me you aren't."

It came to her with a little bit of shock that he was flirting with her."Beauty is in the eye of the beholder..." she said, while trying to accept the fact of his obvious interest.

"Jake." he said, hearing the question in her voice. "My name is Jacob, but you can call me Jake. And trust me when I tell you that I am definitely beholding beauty. Beauty, I know. Fine wines, I don't."

She noticed that he was carefully standing outside of her personal space. Noted and appreciated it. Because of that, Olivia relented.

"Well, Jake - what is it that you're looking for?"

"Unexpected guests that have a preference for red wine, but there are so many - I have no idea where to begin. Except with this - you know that I'm Jake and you're—?"

He was amusing and charming and he knew it. "Liv." she told him, surprising herself. "You can call me Liv."

"Liv." he said her name slowly, as if tasting it on his lip. "I like it - it's lovely and no nonsense - just like you."

"And how would you know that I'm no nonsense?"

"Call it a sixth sense. I can tell just by looking in your eyes." he answered her question with another engaging grin.

"Enough already," Olivia said as she laughed again. "I said I would help you so you can stop with the snow-job now."

"Stop? Hardly? I've only just begun." He laughed along with her; He might truly be in need of help in choosing a wine, but his eyes told Olivia that his admiration and attraction to her as a woman was very, very real.

Maybe that's what she needed, after being cocooned away from real life, caught like fly in a spiderweb in her and Fitz's web of drama and desire. A little bit of normal just might be what the doctor ordered - and she'd be lying to herself if wasn't finding this harmless flirting refreshing.

It was so much so refreshing that she spent the next little while giving Jake a mini-lesson in choosing wines. At her suggestion, they also chose a small selection of cheeses to compliment them. If he were entertaining, then two or three bottles of wine wasn't going to be enough.

At the same time, Olivia wasn't about to reveal her own predilection for red wine and gourmet popcorn. Some things were better left unsaid.

At long last, they were approaching the counter. Olivia took a moment to point to a sign that announced a wine tasting event scheduled for next week.

"If you are serious about learning about wine - you should come to one of their wine tasting events. There's always someone to give a little speech about the variety being presented and that way you can learn what you like - instead of depending on the kindness of strangers."

"Thanks to the kindness of strangers, it seems I lucked out big time." Jake said. "And since you've been so helpful, I'll do exactly that - if you promise to meet me here next Friday."

Olivia hesitated. She wasn't accustomed to meeting strange men in stores, no matter how upscale they might be.

It was as if he read her mind. "How much more harmless can a wine-tasting be? This way you get to spend a pleasant evening getting to know me before we go out on our first date."

Olivia lifted an eyebrow at his statement. "Our first date?"

He grinned at her and Olivia had to admit that it was a very nice one. It went well with the open yet mischievous look in his eyes. They weren't quite the shade of blue she was used to, though.

That fact hit her with a pang. Olivia did her best to push any thoughts of those other blue eyes away. It was much easier to listen to Jake's attempts to convince her to see him again.

"Well, this hardly counts - this is merely an introduction to what I hope will be the start of a beautiful friendship."

By now, it was their turn at the register and the cashier began ringing up their purchases. Olivia was about to separate her order from his when he stopped her. "The least you can do is let me pay for that, after all the help you've been."

He insisted until she gave in.

"Thank you." Jake said. Before he paid the bill, he asked the cashier for a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled something on it and handed it to her.

Olivia looked down to see his name and a phone number written on the scrap of paper. She looked back up at him. "You don't have a business card?"

"Not for dates." he told her. "If something comes up- like work or something - and you can't make the wine tasting, this way you can call to apologize and then figure out a way to make it up to me."

Olivia shook her head. He was unbelievable. "I make no promises either way." she told him as she picked up her bag.

"But I will see you next Friday, right? Tell me you can't resist the mystery."

"Goodbye Jake - good luck with your unexpected guests."

"I'll let you know how it all turns out. See you next week, Livvie."

Shaking her head, Olivia got in her car and headed for home.

"Well, that was fun." Thinking of Abby's words to her, Olivia said the words aloud. Maybe she'd been right - maybe she deserved some fun. In spite of herself - in spite of him - Olivia smiled once more.


	14. Chapter 14

Her bedroom was draped in shadowy shades of deep bluish-grays when the phone rang. Olivia's eyes snapped open as she felt herself slide upwards from a floating dreamlessness to being jarringly alert and awake in the dark. Not only awake but aware - with no rhyme or reason - of who was on the other end of the line. Her skin rippled into goosebumps with the surety of it all.

Trying to calm the sudden racing of her heart, she drew in a deep breath. Olivia knew every single reason why she shouldn't answer. Woulda, shoulda, coulda - she could name each and every reason why she shouldn't - why she couldn't - answer the phone. Yet she couldn't say that she wouldn't. Not one of the million and one reasons why she shouldn't answer stopped her hand from reaching out.

That same hand trembled slightly as she lifted the receiver. Apprehension filled her insides and set her whole body to trembling, knowing fear that while she didn't know what to expect - she knew that whatever it was, she would accept it.

She deserved whatever harsh words he felt necessary to say, no matter how much they would hurt.

Olivia hadn't known how much of him she had destroyed when she had turned against him until it was done. Cyrus had told her that Fitz wouldn't be able to take it. That it would break him, change him.

Not until the truth had come to her at Verna's funeral. Not until he'd taken her in the electrical closet after Ella's christening. Only then, when he had made it clear in their last encounter that he could only see her actions as a betrayal of the highest sort.

She'd thought she'd seen Fitz in all of his moods; how his eyes changed with every one of them - anger, sorrow, in laughter, desire and love. But never the deadness that had filled them when he looked down at her and told her that they were done. When he put what they'd done in the crudest of terms, stripping away all vestiges of love. She was a traitor and They. Were. Done.

Betrayal hadn't been her motivation. It had never been. At the time, she had thought it best to help him achieve what he had wanted for so long. Everyone else involved had had their own agendas and couldn't see past their own ambitions to see him truly for the man that he was - not even his own wife, let alone the others that surrounded him as his so-called inner circle.

But while her intentions had been good; the method had betrayed him beyond repair.

Pain was her penance - the pain that she lived with every day, even though she shielded it from the world during the day and drank it away all too often at night.

But now, in the darkest hours of the night, when all was shadowed and still - the walls she'd put up to protect her heart melted into nothingness. And waiting, crouched like a hungry beast,was the pain. Olivia opened herself to it, telling herself it was no more than she deserved. And so she steeled herself, even as she pressed the phone to her ear.

Silence met her. She waited, heart heavy in her chest. The silence continued. Then there was the clink of ice against a glass, followed by the heavy sound of his breathing, harsh and ragged.

It broke her heart all over again to know that she had done this to him. That his father - that bastard who had raised him to think that he had been never been good enough for his love and approval - that what she had done had - in Fitz's mind - proved he had been right.

She had known in her heart that Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III was more than well-suited for the job of President of the United States. But she had allowed her emotions dictate her actions, forgetting who he was for what she believed he wanted most.

Grief surged up - a harsh mixture of anguish and regret - and it choked her in its with unexpected intensity. Her throat tightened up with remembered sorrow, regret and pain, making it impossible for her to speak a single word. But after all, really, what was there for to say?

She closed her eyes against the sudden searing ache in her throat, totally unaware of the tiny sigh of pain that whispered its way past her lips.

Lying there in the darkness, she opened them again to stare into the shadows once more, forcing herself to face the ruins that she had created.

She heard his breath again across the miles that separated them. It had quickened in its intensity but the raggedness remained. Tears formed in her eyes unbidden as she suddenly _knew that the pain was shared._

His heart ached, just like her own and she was as sure of it as if he were standing there before her, her eyes looking deep into his own.

It all fell into place; the reason for the silence was that sometimes heartache couldn't be put into words. That didn't make it any less real or take away any amount of the hurt.

As strange as that might be, that thought that they shared this pain, this heart - no, soul-ache - held its own strange measure of comfort. Olivia refused to question it; instead she opened herself fully to it.

The result was an easing of the sharp pain inside her. She felt her own breath slow while the pain in her chest mercifully receded. Olivia closed her eyes, stealing a few moments of peace from the sound of his breathing. She could only hope that Fitz could do the same.

They lay there in the dark; together and yet still so far apart. Parted by more than distance, held together by such a simple thing as the act of breathing.

The minutes ticked by and it came to her suddenly that an oasis of peace had descended on them. Her trembling had eased and her heart had slowed. And so had - she was certain in this - so had his.

Their breathing was in sync.

Somehow, she found herself knowing that it was so. That once again, in the way that they had found themselves sharing the same thoughts and feelings, that the same was happening to him. She was not unwilling; she would offer him comfort in any way that she could.

Here in the dark, alone and not alone, Olivia felt a peace that she hadn't felt since the last time she had held him in her arms.

The silent minutes continued to slide by, unremarked in their passing, each of them content to rest in the now only.

Inside this tiny space of calm, she dared to reach out.

"...Fitz?" Olivia didn't care that her voice trembled. It was just enough to say his name. She spoke softly into the quiet hush of the night, her voice almost a whisper. "Fitz...?"

The silence was soundless thunder between them. But not enough that Olivia didn't hear his breathing hitch unexpectedly - a single breath out of rhythm with the rest. Then came the click of the receiver that ended the call.

Olivia slowly returned the phone to its headset. As if in a dream, she curled herself around her pillow, clutching it tightly as tears streamed silently down her face.

Despite her resolve, broken sobs filled the silence as all she could think of was how they used to be and how she'd lost it all.


	15. Chapter 15

Sitting alone in the shadows of the Oval Office, Fitz leaned forward to set the phone down carefully. Those moments of calm he had just experienced fled beyond his ability to call it back.

He fumbled with the receiver briefly, nearly blinded by the hurt and pain rising back up to churn painfully inside him. The sound of her voice had done this to him. He tried to summon back his righteous anger towards her. He had every right to it after what she'd done.

So he reached for it. He tried and failed. The pain won.

Fitz drew in a deep breath as he leaned back into his chair and let it out in a shuddering exhale. What had he been thinking?

That was the problem - he hadn't been thinking at all. Fitz had been lost, just as lost inside as the day Cyrus had sent him running down the campaign headquarter's hall to keep Olivia Pope from resigning - right after he'd tried to fire her.

With good reason, she'd laid into him with sharp words. He heard every one of them. But beyond hearing her words, something else happened to him.

Looking down into those beautiful, lushly lashed brown eyes, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III fell in love for the first and last time in his life.

And it was only because of her did Fitz begin to see how truly dead his marriage had been for years. They fit together - as they were meant to be. After all, Big Jerry, his father, had approved. Mellie had had class, she had breeding and came from old money. As an added bonus, she had been raised to be the perfect political wife - always perfectly groomed, in public always the devoted wife and mother - never mind that most of that was a sham.

That had bothered him in the first years of their marriage. But it wasn't like he'd been raised to expect any sort of grand love affair in the first place. Not with a man like his father to show him what was what. Reality was a whole different animal than from what was put out there concerning love.

It might work in the movies and in romance novels, but they were fiction, and his life was anything but.

He and Mellie, well, they were real life. Each of them could provide what the other one needed. Stability, the picture of a good marriage - two kids and the white picket fence. Their goals were the same - a rise in political circles, the desire for political power. And for years, he had told himself that these things were enough.

He had also told himself that compared to some of the horror stories he had either heard about or witnessed, he actually had it pretty good. Plenty of people were actually envious of what they saw in the Grants. But they never were able to see past the facade. Their act had gotten so good that everyone believed the fairytale.

Their act had gotten so good that he thought sometimes he even believed it.

He and Mellie had become experts in hiding the truth. The truth was that whatever newly rooted connection they had had in the very beginning had withered quickly and died. Sacrificed on the altar of political necessity.

Over the years Fitz had come to realize that Mellie had been too young to realize that she'd agreed to forfeit her own needs and desires for his and began to resent him - and he, in turn, began to resent her - without either one of them quite knowing why.

And then Olivia Pope had entered his life one day with all the force of a hurricane and blew away the blinders he'd put on his life.

His attraction to her went so far beyond simple physical desire that it had terrified him at first. Her intellect, the power of her spirit - her inner strength along with her undeniable femininity had overwhelmed him. He had lost the war for his heart before he could find any defense against it. The first shot fired had disintegrated any defense his heart and mind might have made.

 _"You're right - I would be lucky to have you."_ He'd blurted it out without thinking, but he'd meant every word of it, in every sense of the word.

And Olivia had heard every word of it, in every sense of the word. Fitz could see in his mind's eye how she'd gone very still; eyes and lips parting in wonder.

Still, she tried to deny it for as long as she could. He tried to deny it for as long as he could.

_"I can't..."_

_"I don't want you to..."_

_"Just stand here with me for one minute..."_

_"One minute..."_

She could have told him no and walked away. But she didn't. Instead Olivia Pope had stood there, returning his gaze. It was all in her eyes; without saying a word, she admitted to knowing every word he could not bring himself to say. And still, she didn't cut and run. In that one minute Fitz saw with a clarity he'd never forgotten - sure with everything in him - that she _knew._

He remembered his heart singing. She felt what he felt - and it wasn't his imagination or his libido working overtime. Only then did he see what he'd been missing all the years of his life. Only then did he see what could have been in his life.

Instead, he had Mellie - who promptly went on to remind him just who it was he had married. Without telling him, she presented herself as a lie for their campaign, telling the lie of a miscarriage that had never happened in front of television cameras and a live audience. Leaving him no choice but to join her in the lie or watch it all come tumbling down.

Neither was their time for a confrontation; Mellie was an instant hit and she'd been offered several speaking engagements on her own merits. She'd made it clear years ago that after it was "his" turn, she intended to have a political career all her own. So off she went, smiling happily at what she had accomplished, not thinking for one second about what her lies might have done to him.

Leaving Olivia to offer comfort. She had that night, come to sit with him as their bus sped along the darkened highways. Thinking he was hurting from a painful memory, she came to help. He could feel her emotions as she grieved for his unborn child and then as she grieved for him when he had told her that Mellie's words had been a lie.

_"How did I get here?"_ He had never realized until that very moment, how much of a lie his life really was. _"Why didn't I meet you sooner?"_

Somehow he knew that his heart was safe with her and that allowed him to open it to her, to say the words he'd only dared to dream of.

__

In the end, when her fingers slipped down between his own, that was the beginning of everything. They'd made love that night; it was more than flesh calling to flesh - it was mind to mind, heart to heart; in truth it was soul to soul.

__

It was everything in him. It was everything the fairy tale romances had said it was. And everything he thought that could never be was suddenly right in front of him - just beyond his grasp. For the first time in his life he'd found heaven in a woman's arms and his life had never been the same since.

__

How did they get from there to here?

__

He knew the answer. He couldn't bear the thought of it; the utter betrayal of all that was in him, contained in a single word.

__

_Defiance_.

As the pain grew almost too much to bear, Fitz's anguish threatened to spill over the dam of his defenses. He reached for the glass of scotch and gulped it down, hoping to deaden the pain before it took ahold of him first.

__

He set his elbows on his desk and let his head sink into his hands. Fitz struggled to get back the memory of peace that he'd just held to him. All of that was just from the sound of her breathing.

__

He held himself very, very still. From somewhere deep inside him, Fitz searched for and finally found the last few threads of those moments, wrapping them around him like a warm blanket in the middle of a cold, cold night.

__

For those few minutes, it hadn't mattered why he had called her. That was a thought for another day - or night. All Fitz knew was that there had been peace.

__

He hadn't expected that when he'd made the call. Fitz hadn't even known what to expect when he'd dialed her number. He almost hadn't dialed the number at all.

__

All he knew now was that the familiar ache in his chest; the burning of eyes that could not cry and the searing wound in his soul that would never heal had withdrawn for a little while.

__

All of it would be back tomorrow; the pain and the anger - Fitz had no doubt of that. But for tonight, for right now, all he'd heard was the sound of her breathing; his breathing.

__

In sync.

__

But tomorrow, he wouldn't think about it.

__


	16. Chapter 16

It was a cool and rainy night and once again, Fitz found himself working late hours. It was close to midnight, but he didn't care. It didn't matter - Fitz couldn't remember the last time he'd had a full night's rest. At least he'd remembered to send home the people of his personal staff who were not absolutely essential personnel.

Fitz shut his eyes as the thought sent a pang of memory went through him;  _she_ had started many a phone conversation with her reminding him of who had to stay whenever he stayed up late to call her.

It had become an on-going personal and private joke between them. That was no longer true. Before the echo of her voice insinuated its way into his head, Fitz forced his mind away.

The effort that it took made him angry - the thought was irrational and he knew it - but it didn't make the feeling any less intense.

When would his mind stop linking everything he did or thought or felt - to her?

Fitz was seated on one of the couches in the Oval Office; a glass and decanter close at hand. Without thinking, he reached for it and took a large swallow. The familiar burn in his throat helped to refocus his mind.

There was a soft rap at the door; he recognized it. "Come in, Louise." he called out.

She stepped inside just a little. "He's here, sir."

"Thank you, Louise." he said with as much of a smile he could master. "It's Michaels on Marine guard tonight, isn't it? Let him know that he's not to let anyone else through until I tell him otherwise and then you go on home. I'll see you in the morning."

Louise asked if he was sure about her leaving; he insisted and was rewarded by a grateful smile before telling him goodnight. She showed the visitor through the door and then closed it behind me.

A genuine, if tired, smile came to Fitz's face. It grew as the man before him was stepping forward, his eyes bright with appreciation as he looked around. Fitz stood up and came around his desk to meet him halfway.

The man, dressed in navy blues, grinned at Fitz. "Every time I come here, I remember how not-surprised I was to hear that you were running for president - and how not-surprised I was to hear that you won."

He came to a halt before Fitz and drew himself up in proper military order. "Captain Jacob Ballard; reporting, sir." he said, throwing a textbook salute.

Fitz shook his head, the smile still on his face. "At ease, captain."

They reached out for a handshake, then each of them pulled the other into a brief but heartfelt embrace.

"Jake." Fitz said his name with genuine affection. The warmth of their old friendship washed over him like flames from a fireplace, relaxing muscles that Fitz hadn't even realized had been tensed from stress. "It's good to see you - now sit down and have a drink with me."

"Sir?"

Fitz had reached the tray with the decanter; he turned back to the captain and handed him an empty glass. "We are drinking tonight."

As he walked back to retrieve his own glass, he said. "It's not like this is the first time you and I have shared a drink, Jake."

"If I recall, we have never shared  _a_  drink." Jake Ballard shook his head to correct him. "I think the drink minimum was at least five."

Fitz splashed an equal amount of scotch into both glasses. "I think you're right."

They smiled at one another and then the two glasses chimed softly as they brought them together. Fitz gestured and they sat, each of them on of the couches facing one another in the sitting area.

"Mr. President..." Ballard began.

Fitz held up a hand. "Outside, in public, that's understandable and that's fine. Behind closed doors when it's just me and you - well, I'm still Fitz."

He took a swallow and stared at the other man until he gave in.

"Yes, sir - I mean - okay." he shook his head. "Fitz."

Fitz relaxed into the cushions. He needed someone that he could talk to, that he could just be himself with. That obviously couldn't happen with the other people currently surrounding him. They'd shown him that they couldn't be trusted.

Every. Single. One. Of. Them. No wonder his body stayed tense all the time.

"- Fitz. Did you call me here about my assignment?" Jake asked. "There's nothing new there to report."

"Did you up the surveillance?" Fitz asked. Inwardly, he asked himself what the hell did he think he was doing, but he had no answer.

Jake, however, did. "Yes, I 've had security video cameras in place as of three weeks ago."

"How is she?" He hated himself, but at the same time, Fitz couldn't stop himself from asking.

Jake shrugged. "She works a lot, comes home and works some more. Watches pretty else nothing else but news shows. She stays pretty much to herself." He hesitated.

"What?" Something in Fitz came alert.

"Nothing, really. It's about the whole staying pretty much to herself thing. It doesn't seem like she sees much of anybody when she's not working. In all the weeks I've been watching her, she's only gone out once - to an art exhibit - but that was it. She - seems lonely, sometimes. And sad."

Fitz didn't answer; he couldn't think of anything to say. He steeled his heart against hearing about Olivia's sadness. She'd earned it all on her own.

"So far, I haven't seen any real reason to keep such a close eye on her. Maybe if you told me what I was looking for?" his voice trailed off in a question.

Fitz didn't know what he was looking for either. Stalling, he stood up and refilled their glasses.

"Olivia Pope is not what she seems. She's strictly a behind the scenes operator, but even from the shadows, she's a powerful player. She's a crisis manager which means that she knows where a lot of the bodies are buried and well, that makes her a concern of national security."

"She worked on your presidential campaign, didn't she?"

Fitz took a gulp of his drink. Another memory he wanted to be dead and buried.

"She did. That means I got to see up close and-" he paused as the next word came to his lips. " - up close and personal what a game-changer she can be and what she's capable of."

He had to force himself away from the other thoughts that came with that. The other thoughts that reminded him of the tenderness she was capable of, the loyalty and the love that had been in her eyes whenever she'd looked at him...  _Stop it_  - he commanded himself.

"Believe me when I tell you, Olivia is someone you want to keep a close eye on. Especially when she's no longer in your camp."

"No longer in your camp?" Jake lifted an eyebrow at that. "Do you think she's actively working against you now?"

Talk about a loaded question. As far as Fitz was concerned everyone he'd surrounded himself with was working against him now.

But now, as it often did, his feelings argued with reality. If the people around him hadn't been precisely against him, they were still guilty of putting their own agendas before his. Not precisely a capital offense, but he'd be lying to himself if there weren't times that he wished that it was.

"Not necessarily." In his heart, Fitz believed that Olivia would never actively go against him. There was that one time concerning Amanda Tanner, but that had been with provocation from him.

At the same time, there'd been once upon a time that Fitz had also believed that she would never, ever - not in a million years - work behind his back.

And how wrong had he been about that?

"Not necessarily." Fitz repeated. "But in the event current circumstances happens to change that, I need to know about it first thing."

His answer seemed to satisfy the younger man. Jake nodded. "If it does, you'll be the first to know."

A moment of guilt went through Fitz as they changed the subject and chatted idly about mutual acquaintances - who was stationed where, who'd been promoted and other easy subjects.

Fitz realized how much he'd missed this kind of easy contact. Some of that emotion must have shown on his face, because he looked up to see Jake looking at him with an odd expression on his face.

"Are you okay?" Jake asked.

Fitz attempted a smile, but he could feel how weak it was. "I'm okay - as well as anyone could be in the crown jewel of the American prison system."

That made them both smile.

It also gave Fitz the strength to let down his walls a little. "You come into something like this, knowing that your life is going to change. But I don't think anyone is prepared for the isolation that comes with the office."

Jake looked at him sympathetically.  _If he only knew_ , Fitz thought to himself. He was more alone than he had ever thought he would be. His wife, Cyrus -  _Olivia_...

For a moment, he questioned his motives. Guilt touched his next words. "Maybe I shouldn't have called you into this." he said. "We go way back, you and I and... I don't want you to feel - I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage of our friendship."

Jake shook his head. "You asked me to do something - I'm glad to do it. You could have ordered anyone else to do this. I want you to know that it means a lot to me that you trust me enough to call me in to help. Whether it's Fitz or the president that I'm doing it for doesn't matter - I'll do it. I'm doing it. I'll continue to do it until you tell me not to."

This time, Fitz's smile was genuine and filled with gratitude. It felt good, remembering what it was like to have a friend in your corner just because that's where they wanted to be.

But that didn't mean that the choices he was making didn't make him feel as though his soul didn't die just a little bit more.

He reached for his drink and gulped it down, with the intentions of drowning the emotions that still lingered in his heart. Fitz told himself that he couldn't afford them - not any more. He couldn't let his heart blind him to the painful reality his world had become.


	17. Chapter 17

After his visit with Jake, Fitz had actually managed to get a decent night sleep for a change. It was fortunate that he had, because the news that Cyrus brought him changed everything.

The morning had gone relatively easy - as easy as it could be for the president at least. There was always some pressing matter that had to be attended to, as well as touching bases with one or more of the department heads that kept the White House machine oiled and running smoothly. And of course, there was the hostage situation hanging over his head.

He'd had an idea concerning them and had asked one of the former diplomats to meet with him to discuss some possible avenues they might have overlooked.

Jocelyn Davis-Martin, Special Diplomatic Advisor to the national Security Council was seated in one of the chairs facing his desk. She was a lovely woman probably no more than two of three years younger than himself, with skin the hue of deep rich brown and a close cropped cap of silver curls.

They'd been brainstorming several ideas, but hadn't found a solid path to pursue.

While they were still exchanging ideas, Cyrus's presence was announced.

Fitz nodded to allow him entry; his chief of staff wouldn't interrupt a scheduled meeting unless it was important.

"My apologies," he said to the woman sitting opposite him at his desk.

"Not a problem." she answered with a lovely smile.

Cyrus stepped into the room. His eyes went from Fitz to the woman and he nodded his head in his own apology. "I hate to interrupt you this way, sir, but there's been a complication."

"Concerning?" Fitz eyed the folder Cyrus was holding in his hand.

Neither he nor Cyrus had addressed the coolness that had sprung up between them. Unholy alliance it might at the moment, but to ensure that the country continued to run smoothly, both of them had been accommodating the other without any true confrontation.

On Fitz's side, it was just easier to not deal with it and numb himself to the other man's betrayal with scotch. On Cyrus' side, Fitz found that he just didn't care.

"It concerns the hostages." Cyrus said.

The woman made a motion as if to stand. "Since we were almost done, perhaps I should leave, Mr. President?"

"Wait." Fitz motioned for her to keep her seat. "We were already talking about the possibility of you using your former connections to see if a dialogue can be reached. You might as well be brought up to date on everything we have."

Jocelyn nodded and settled back into her chair. She didn't see the look that Cyrus gave her. Or perhaps she chose to ignore it.

Fitz did the same; he turned his gaze back to Cyrus and motioned for him to continue.

Cyrus looked slightly unhappy about it, but did as he was told.

He consulted the information in the folder. "It's recently been been brought to my attention that of the six hostages taken, three of them were indeed CIA operatives."

Ignoring Fitz's sudden look of disbelief, Cyrus went on to detail what he knew - which was the provinces in which they had worked and some of the native contacts they'd made and utilized. In many cases, information had been traded keeping the rebels updated as to actions being taken against them by their own governments as well as intel that benefited them both.

"What?" Fitz' full attention snapped onto Cyrus as he leaned forward. "This is what their rebels had accused them of - this is what I denied - and they were right?" Outrage filled his voice.

Cyrus rushed to explain. "They had been embedded from the earliest years of the previous administration's. I'd - we'd - been getting their mission reports under their covert names. I knew they'd been embedded within humanitarian concerns, but the way it works so, the less people who know of them, the better. The CIA had the information - but since we had no reason to ask, it was assumed that there was no reason to tell.

Fitz turned his gaze onto Jocelyn. She shook her head. "That information was mostly above my pay grade." she said. "Did I know that there were some operatives embedded within the aid organizations - yes. Was I told specifically who they were - no. What Cyrus is saying is correct. It was deemed to be a need-to-know scenario - and it was made clear to me that I didn't necessarily need to know."

Cyrus sighed heavily. Despite the fact that he hadn't known, he still felt guilty. It was his job to keep the president up to date on all matters concerning national security and he felt he'd failed. Not for the first time, he'd failed him.

Fitz could see all of that clearly on his face. It didn't change his opinion on Cyrus since he'd learned about Defiance, but at the same time, Fitz was wise enough not to blame the man for matters beyond his control. He waved a hand in a gesture meant to absolve Cyrus of any failure he might be feeling due to the current crisis.

Was it his imagination, or did Cyrus relax fractionally?

"It was only when one of their failsafe check-in time dates hadn't been contacted that the alarm was triggered - and that's when this new information came to light." Cyrus explained.

"This is a game-changer." Fitz said slowly, his mind spinning to catch all of the nuances this twist brought to the assignment. If it were discovered that they actually had had covert agents within the aid movements, it would do irreparable harm throughout the region - and not only to those serving American interests.

Jocelyn was frowning, locked in thought. "There's a chance that I could reach out to some of my - less prominent former contacts." She went on to explain briefly that among some of her other duties, she'd served as an information conduit to those parties who had a desire for a more democratic rule than what was currently in place.

Seeing the president's approval, a momentarily relieved Cyrus automatically placed himself in the role of devil's advocate.

"Would that be wise?" he asked. "If it's discovered that you're in contact with what the current government no doubt sees as rebel forces, it might escalate the situation. We could lose their legitimate good will."

Jocelyn thought the matter over, tapping one finger against her full lips. "I agree that it would have to be handled very delicately, but there's a possibility that it could be done."

She turned back to the president. "The only drawback is that it might take a little time. And secrecy. I'd need a loose rein - looser than you might like." Jocelyn looked meaningfully at Cyrus.

"Time we may or may not have." Fitz agreed with her. "But the way I see it, we have to explore every option available to us. Three of those people have nothing to do with covert ops, and we have to do everything we can to ensure their safety. I think it's safe to say that you'll have as much rein as you need."

She looked again to Cyrus. He nodded in agreement. "If the president deems it necessary, I have no objections. I'll see that you're given as much cooperation as possible."

Fitz raised an eyebrow at that, then turned his attention back to Jocelyn.

"This is not a part of your regular assignments, Jocelyn - it's only fair that you realize that there's a certain amount of risk involved with what you're planning to do. You don't have to take this on."

Her deep brown eyes met his in perfect understanding. "I serve at the pleasure of the president and innocent lives are in the balance. I'll do what I can."

Looking into her eyes, Fitz could see that she meant every word of it. "Thank you. I thank you, and even if they may never know of your involvement, your country thanks you."

He turned to Cyrus. "Have copies of everything we have right now made for Jocelyn. We need to bring her up to speed on everything."

"Everything? Sir - is that - necessary?"

"Everything." Fitz fixed him with a cool gaze. "Do you have an objection?"

"Not really, sir." Cyrus said. "It's just the thought of having sensitive material leave the White House grounds..."

"I have sufficient security." Jocelyn said. "I'll do as much as I can from within the White House, of course - but I may need to conduct some work away from here. None of us can afford to have any paths I find traced back to here, of course."

"Should we conduct a security sweep at your home first?" Fitz asked.

Cyrus shook his head. "If her involvement is meant to be kept under wraps, then any extra activity at her house might be noted."

She smiled suddenly. "I don't think I'll have to worry about security." When both men looked at her with questions on their faces, she went on to explain.

"My daughter is a high-ranked computer technician in security research and development over in Intel at the Pentagon. A simple phone call from mother to daughter won't be noted as being out of the ordinary at all."

Cyrus thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "I'll make sure there will be no questions asked, if necessary. She won't ask questions if I ask her to check into and upgrade my home computer security." She smiled briefly. "In fact, she's been nagging me for quite awhile about it."

The three of them looked at one another and saw that they were in agreement. Cyrus left the room to return to his office to run off the copies for Jocelyn.

As the door closed behind the other man, Fitz left his chair and walked around to the front of the desk. His glance took in the side table with its decanter of liquor, but for once, he ignored it. Instead, he moved to lean against the front of his desk.

"You do realize that there is some danger in this, don't you? What you're offering to do is not exactly in your job description."

Jocelyn Davis-Martin looked up at him. "I realize that, sir. But as I said earlier, I serve at the pleasure of the president."

She paused, looking for the right words; finding them, she continued. "I had my doubts when you were elected - you were something of an unknown quantity at the time. But since then, I've had the privilege of getting to know you, and I've come to believe in you."

Fitz felt a rush of humility mingled with pride go through him. This is why he'd run for president, to bring the country together in every way possible and move forward - and her words made everything real.

He put out his hand to her. When she took it, he shook it warmly. "You have no idea what your words mean to me."

She smiled up at him. "I think I have some idea, Mr. President - as I said, I've come to know you in a way - and know what you are trying to do. I'll do anything I can to help."

For the first time in what seemed like a very long time, Fitz felt himself breaking into a genuine smile - one that she returned. It was one of shared determination and goals.

They were still smiling at one another when Mellie walked into the room.


	18. Chapter 18

"Oh, I am so sorry!"

Fitz had never hated the syrupy, saccharine-false sweetness in Mellie's voice more than he did right now. The bond between he and Jocelyn Davis-Martin was one of the smaller defining moments of his presidency - but it didn't make it any less important to him - and Mellie's intrusion threatened to ruin it for him.

It had nothing to do with the fact that she was a woman and he was a man. Instead, it had everything to do with public service. Jocelyn Martin was as prepared as he was to work towards a greater good.

Some saw government service as a path to power; most did and that was a given once he'd reached the federal levels of power. But for Fitz it had been more about seeing politics as a path to service. To meet a kindred-spirit was rarer than most people would think and he'd wanted nothing more in the moment to savor it.

It didn't mean he would ever get the chance to do so.

Fitz felt the diplomat's hand fall away, even as his gaze turned to his wife. She smiled at the both of them, but he knew her well enough to see that her smile was false. It was in her eyes, which were cool, calculating and none too pleased with the scenario in front of her.

"I hope you two don't mind my interruption." That may be what she was saying, but her tone made it clear that this what not what she meant.

She wasn't the First Lady in this moment at all in this time; she was more of a woman staking her claim. Fitz felt all of it. But for him, the truth was not as simple as that.

"Of course not, Mrs. Grant." Jocelyn turned to shake her hand. "May I say what a pleasant surprise it is to see you?"

Mellie took the offered handshake. like a queen accepting homage. "I could say the same - that it's a surprise to see you here this evening."

"The president was just asking for my opinion on certain current events." Jocelyn explained.

"Oh?" There was a wealth of questions in Mellie's voice.

It made Fitz tense up; by now, Mellie should know better than to pry into the affairs of state.

Not that Fitz ever expected that to stop her.

In her mind, she was a frustrated political animal and now standing here before her was Jocelyn Davis-Martin - who was a legitimate member of his administration; one who was highly respected in the D.C. political community and the cherry on top was that she'd achieved her position all on her own. She'd married her current husband only after she'd established her own diplomatic career. Of course Mellie was envious of that.

Fitz knew that Mellie wanted more of an explanation than that, but it wasn't going to happen. They'd had so many arguments on the matter that he was beyond tired of it - but yet she kept trying to intrude where she was neither needed, wanted - or had a right to be.

Had that been the price of her betrayal? Fitz thought so; she'd been promised a place at the table, of access to power.

The problem was - he'd never promised her that.

"Yes, she, Cyrus and I were going over certain possibilities, but we were wanting to keep our discussions private."

"Private." Mellie said thoughtfully. "And where's Cyrus now?"

"Doing something that needed doing." Fitz said. He could feel the anger taking ahold of him. He glared at her, but she only smiled in return.

He didn't trust this smile any more than he had the first one. Fitz knew how much she hated the secrets that originated from the Oval Office. At the same time, she refused to realize that her previous actions kept her from being involved on any sort of level.

But while these thoughts were going through Fitz's mind, Mellie was still talking to Jocelyn Martin.

"Well, that gives me a few minutes to say hello, then. I haven't seen you in - well, I don't know how long it's been?" Mellie was saying to the other woman.

Jocelyn remained gracious, even though Mellie's sickly-sweet tone was clearly being put on for her own benefit.

"It's been quite awhile." Jocelyn admitted. "Then again, my current position in the administration isn't one that brings me into the limelight much - and that suits me just fine."

"I don't know if I could give up power as easily as you seemed to have done." Mellie said. "It's such a good old boy network around here."

"I've never really been about power - at least not by others' definition. Whatever influence I might have earned in certain areas always meant to me that I could play a small part in advancing America's influence on the world stage - however what small of a part that I might play."

Fitz found himself disagreeing with Jocelyn Davis' words - at least the part about what a small part she'd played in the White House. Her part had never been a small one -her duties had been purposely kept under the public radar, but she'd been a vital part of two administrations, and he was not about to let that go unremarked.

"Don't underestimate yourself, Jocelyn. Your years of service have been vital to American interests and I can't express how grateful I am that you've offered your services once again to the country."

He felt the antagonism rising up from Mellie and found himself not caring. Jocelyn, in contrast was surprised and pleased by his words. Then again, Mellie usually was not pleased with any of his decisions - mainly because she had no direct input into them.

He couldn't say that seeing her almost transparent frustration didn't give him a small amount of pleasure. He hadn't forgotten that she'd played a part in the betrayers that surrounded him. The only reason he hadn't confronted her yet was because one - her guilt kept her nicely reined in and two - he was saving that card to play when he decided it would work best for him.

"Thank you, Mr. President." Jocelyn told him. The warmth in her smile was met with one of his own.

Not to be out done, Mellie - as usual - added her own two cents.

"Well - if my husband holds you in such high esteem, what else can I say?" Mellie asked. "Maybe we can do something about that."

"Like what?"Fitz asked, instantly suspicious.

"There's no need..." Jocelyn said at the same time.

Mellie cut them both off with a wave of her hand. "Why ever not? It sounds like Jocelyn deserve to be recognized. Maybe a little ceremony in the Rose Garden, or on the White House steps... I could even host a luncheon right here - we can make it a celebration of womens' power."

Her eyes began to gleam with anticipation.

"This would not be the right time for something like this." Fitz said. He could see how uncomfortable this turn in conversation was making Jocelyn and again they were in agreement. The last thing any of them wanted was to turn a spotlight on Jocelyn at this time. And at the same time, Fitz had no intentions of explaining why to his wife.

Her eyes narrowed in thought; he knew that look all too well. She was calculating the potential to her in such a situation. Fitz tensed, knowing that he could never fathom what scheme his wife might come up with next.

Mellie paused as if she was coming to some new decisions.

"There's a reception coming up for some of the middle eastern embassies." she said. "Didn't you work closely with some of them?"

Fitz felt Jocelyn's eyes dart to his for a moment before she answered.

"Some of my duties called for establishing diplomatic ties with elements of several of their governments ." Jocelyn conceded carefully. "But not all."

"But enough." Mellie said insistently. "I want you to be there - you deserve it. And it would probably appear as an insult if you didn't make an appearance."

She turned her eyes to Fitz's; he saw the triumph in them. Unfortunately, she might have a point.

"I don't see how you couldn't agree that Mrs. Martin's service has proved invaluable to our administration." Mellie said. "My goodness, she worked in the administration prior to yours and you kept her on when she had submitted her resignation."

To Fitz, it was clear that Jocelyn didn't know quite how to answer. Grudgingly he had to admit his wife was right, even if she didn't know the reason why. Her absence might not only be noted but questioned. And that might make what she had to do harder.

"It isn't necessary..." Jocelyn tried to protest.

"Maybe not - but it's an honor that's long overdue for you."

It was clear that Mellie was determined to have her way in this. Fitz knew that Mellie couldn't possibly know the precise role that Jocelyn had just agreed to play in the current situation, but she should have had enough political acumen to know when to leave things alone.

Then again - it wouldn't be the first time that his wife had tried to wield her own influence in an attempt to create her own power base.

It was a thin line that they had all chosen to walk. In the moment - for him, Cyrus and Jocelyn - all that mattered was the survival of both the aide workers along with the CIA operative' survival.

Mellie's actions were only complicating things. Not that this was anything new - or that she cared. Fitz listened to her with increasing frustration as his wife forged ahead.

"If you won't allow yourself to be publicly acknowledged - at the very least you must come to the next state dinner. Just your presence will be enough."

Jocelyn tried to evade. "I would have to check my schedule."

Mellie moved closer to Fitz and laid a hand on his arm; it was all he could do not to jerk away while her false laughter grated on his nerves. "Well then I have to insist even more. All work and all that."

In the end, Mellie did manage to drag a promise from Jocelyn to at least think it over seriously.

"Wonderful!" Mellie said at last. "Think about it - that's enough for now. But I'm warning you, I'll be doing my best to convince you to come, right up until the very last minute. And I still think a ladies luncheon could be beneficial to women's causes."

Jocelyn Martin didn't look too happy about it, but she did her best to hide it. "As I said, I'll have to check my schedule, Mrs. Grant - so you do understand that I can't promise anything..."

"Let's just wait and see." she said. Having won even a minor concession seemed to enough for now. Mellie moved on to her true agenda. "But there is something you can do for me right now - could you give me five minutes alone with my husband?"

Jocelyn's reaction was a startled glance at the president. Fitz tensed up. "Really, Mellie? We're in the middle of a policy meeting."

"It will only be a few minutes." Mellie didn't even look at him, but kept her eyes on the other woman.

Under the First Lady's gaze, Fitz saw that Jocelyn felt that she was left with no choice in the matter. "Of course, Mrs. Grant."

Fitz gritted his teeth. "Don't go far, Mrs. Martin - we still have some material to discuss."

"Yes, sir." she said and left the room.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Fitz turned to face his wife. "Since when do you barge in and interrupt me when I'm working?"

Mellie's lips curved into an unamused sneer. "Is working what we're calling it now?"

"What are you talking about?" Fitz said, his voice rough with aggravation. Before she could answer, comprehension lit up his face. She thought that he and Jocelyn Martin were... His face twisted in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me! Are you insane?"

Mellie stepped closer. "You've got to be kidding me if you think that I can't see what I see. I'm just protecting what's mine since it looks like maybe you've developed a taste for chocolate."


	19. Chapter 19

"You disgust me." Fitz said, his voice filled with ice as he turned his back on her. He walked to one of the windows and stared out, not even wanting to look at her in this moment.

His moving away from her had no effect; Fitz felt Mellie follow him. He could feel her nearness and he had to fight with himself against the nausea that filled him because of it.

"And some days the feeling is mutual. But, husband - you're also transparent. If you think that I'm going to stand by and pretend to be blind as to what's going on,  _Mr. President_ " - the last two words were weighted down with heavy sarcasm. "Then think again. Oh no, Fitz - I'm not going to stand around and just watch it happen this time around - once was more than enough."

Fitz didn't trust himself to turn around; unconsciously, his hands closed themselves into fists. "That sounded suspiciously like a threat, Mellie."

"Did it?" Her voice sounded as though she didn't seem too worried about it.

She should be; Fitz thought to himself. Holding himself very carefully, he turned around to look at her. Mellie's eyes were sparkling with a mixture of malice and satisfaction.

He reached out one hand and jerked her close. There was no tenderness in the action, and it was his turn to feel a sense of satisfaction as he saw a trace of shock leap into her eyes.

His voice dropped to a whisper that held the strength of steel in it. "Don't."

"Don't what?" She tried for a show of bravado, but she went pale. That and the look in her eyes ruined the effect.

"Whatever you're thinking you want to do. Don't." Fitz said, speaking slow enough so that he could be sure that she heard every single word. "Don't make insinuations. Why? Because you couldn't be more wrong. Don't stick your nose in where it definitely does not belong."

He released her arm and watched as Mellie involuntarily took a step backwards from him. "And don't ever presume to make a threat towards me again."

Away from him, Mellie struggled to recover her composure and hide her sudden fearful reaction. "I don't intend to threaten you, Fitz. I promise you that I will do whatever I have to do if I find out anything unsavory concerning you and Jocelyn Davis-Martin."

"And I promise you - if you do anything that interferes with the running of my administration - you'll find out just how far I will go to protect it. You might try to do something - but I  _will_  do whatever  _I_ have to do if I find out anything that compromises my ability to do what the people elected me to do."

His last sentence shut her up. Just as he thought it might.

Fitz turned away from her. "Now, if you're done, will you excuse us so that I can get back to work?"

/**/

Cyrus was surprised to find Jocelyn Martin the outer office when he returned. Her gaze was on the Oval Office doors and her expression was slightly apprehensive.

"Has there been any new developments?" he asked.

Jocelyn looked at him briefly before her eyes went back to the doors. "I don't know - is the unexpected arrival of the First Lady considered a development?"

"More like an unnecessary distraction." Cyrus lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"Hear what from you?" Jocelyn asked in perfect understanding.

"I have no idea." Cyrus replied; they shared a knowing look and smile between them.

"I don't know how much previous contact you've had with the First Lady -"

"Not much..." Jocelyn said.

"Be grateful." Cyrus replied, casting his eyes heavenwards for a moment. "Just be warned - be careful of whatever you say around her. She's - well, let's just say she's strong-willed and ambitious."

"Sounds like a volatile mix."

Cyrus let out a sigh. "That, Mrs. Martin, is one of the understatements of the year."

She raised her eyebrows in response. "I don't doubt it - I just had a taste of it. But I'll consider myself warned."

Cyrus wanted to ask her more about the full measure of the role the president had asked her to play, but he never got the chance. Before either of them could say anything else, the Oval Office's door was jerked open and the First Lady came stalking out of the room. She didn't look or speak to either one of them as she left the area.

"Jocelyn?" they both heard the president call out. With Cyrus gesturing for her to preceded him, they re-entered the Oval Office.

"My apologies for the interruption." the president said to her.

She waved it away. "No problem at all, sir."

He turned his eyes to Cyrus.

"Here's the reports you asked for, sir - would you like to go over them before Mrs. Martin takes them?"

He shook his head. "That won't be necessary - she's already agreed to help and I value her trust in the matter. Jocelyn also needs to have updates on the situation as often as necessary. Make sure that you take care of that as well."

"It will be handled as you say, sir." Cyrus nodded in agreement, and handed over one set of the folders to Jocelyn.

In turn, she murmured her thanks before she turned to retrieve the briefcase she'd brought with her. She dialed the computer lock open and placed the folder inside.

Cyrus' eyes were veiled as he watched her. She'd obviously been prepared to receive those reports and he couldn't help but wonder what else she knew that he didn't.

He turned back to the president to realize that he'd been watching him. Had he been waiting to see his reaction? That was something Cyrus didn't want to ponder at the moment. "Speaking of situations, sir, the personnel you've asked for are gathered in the Situation Room waiting for you."

"Thank you." Fitz replied. He looked at Jocelyn. "I think it best if you attend as well."

"If you think so, then of course, sir." Jocelyn replied. "May I have a moment to call my husband and tell him that I'll be later than I expected? I don't want him worrying about me unnecessarily."

"Of course." Fitz replied. When she had excused herself to the outer office, he turned to find Cyrus watching him carefully.

"Is there something you had to say, Cyrus?" he asked.

"I don't know, sir - would you listen to me if I did?" Cyrus asked, his voice tense and low.

"If you have something to say - then say it." Fitz snapped.

"Very well then. I find it strange that you are arranging private meetings with White House personnel without my being knowing about it." Cyrus said. His expression made it very clear that he didn't merely find it strange - he didn't like it. "I find it strange that said personnel is obviously being briefed on matters that - again - I know nothing about.

Fitz didn't care whether he liked it or not. Resentment at Cyrus rose up like a deep tide from somewhere dark inside of him, filling him to the point of overflowing. "Do you have a problem with Jocelyn Martin?"

"The problem isn't Jocelyn, sir." Cyrus' tone was as stiff as his body as he stood before him. The only thing alive in his face was his eyes. They were cool and glittering like arctic ice.

"It isn't?" Fitz saw his opening and took it. "I made a decision to bring in a trusted member of  _my_ administration and it looks as though you don't approve of her."

"Why is that?" He purposefully twisted the knife. "Is it a matter of trust?"

Fitz was gratified to see a crack in Cyrus' armor as he took in his words. Something in the other man's face changed slightly - was it guilt? Shame? Whatever it was passed over him like a shadow and for a moment Cyrus looked ill.

It gave Fitz a twisted sense of pleasure to see it; after all, he'd been sickened by what he had discovered. It still came back to haunt him during his all too many sleepless nights, so why should he suffer alone?

That same sickness - the same pain of betrayal came washing back like a tidal wave over him again. Fitz moved back behind his desk, gathering some papers into a second folder. He pretended to study them as he picked up each sheet, but the fact was that he didn't want to - couldn't - look at Cyrus right now. His head pounded and it was all he could do to stop his hands from shaking while his stomach did a slow roiling as the first memories of betrayal knotted it into painful cramps.

"Not at all, Mr. President. It's just that it's my responsibility to help you with these matters - and you're not using me the way you have done in the past." Cyrus replied. "It just seems out of the ordinary."

"We aren't dealing with ordinary times, though - are we?" Fitz said. He raised his head to look Cyrus squarely in the eye. "I need all the people that I can trust around me these days - and you would agree that there are very few these days, I can trust - isn't that right?"

"You have to always be careful, sir - but I believe you can trust your gut."

Did Cyrus realize what he'd just said? Was it unintentional or a deliberate dig at him. Did it matter? Once upon a time, those words had had the power to make him smile. But now? All they served to do was to remind him what he'd lost. And why.

And then all anger and all the pain threatened to crash upon him in a fresh wave of emotion and threatened to drown him unless he drowned it first. His throat cried out for a drink - anything to dull the pain. Unconsciously, Fitz shook his head. There was too much to do and his wants were the least of his concerns.

"Glad to hear that you have trust in me, Cyrus - although sometimes, I wonder..." Fitz found that couldn't let go of the chance to throw Cyrus off-balance once more. He hadn't been like this before his discovery about Defiance and there was still part of him that was ashamed of himself. Fitz allowed himself a moment of clarity. What did he want? he wondered to himself. Did he want the other man to admit to what he'd done? What would he do if he did?

Another silence fell between them, lying there like dust - arid and dry - and suddenly, very draining. Suddenly and unexpectedly weary of the rage and the pain, Fitz pretended to return his attention to the last of the papers he was gathering while he struggled to strengthen his will. He didn't notice how he was crushing the edge of one page in his hand.

Cyrus did.

The silence between them lay there until Cyrus cleared his throat. When Fitz looked up again, the other man had repaired his armor and showed Fitz nothing more than his usual expression. There he was - his attack dog, his dragon. Ready to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. There he was, the king of Fitz.

_Long live the king._

Bitterness flooded his mouth.

Cyrus was looking at him carefully. After a moment, he took a deep breath, gathering himself. "Is there something we need to talk about, sir?"

His task completed, Fitz looked Cyrus in the eye. "I don't know, Cy - is there?"

Cyrus met his gaze. For a long moment, neither one of them spoke. It was Cyrus who dropped his eyes first. "No - no, sir I guess not."

Fitz walked past him without another glance. "Well then, let's get to work."


	20. Chapter 20

Fitz noticed Cyrus glancing at his watch for the third time in the last forty-five minutes.

He stopped in mid-sentence. "Am I boring you, Cyrus?"

They'd been brainstorming the hostage situation almost all morning long, trying each day to come up with a viable solution. So far the other elephant in the room had been evading them - all at the same time

Cyrus blinked and looked up. "Of- of course not, sir." He'd been unaware that his own emotions had been so easily transplanted. But really, how he had had expected anything else.

Fitz didn't trouble himself to hide a frown. "Is there somewhere else you would rather be?" He had to admit that he was getting a perverse pleasure at showing his displeasure.

"Not at all, Mr. President - but we had had our meeting scheduled for later this afternoon before you changed it to this morning instead." Cyrus explained. "It's just that I did have some lunch plans - a working lunch." he added quickly as Fitz cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

"Working on what?" Fitz asked.

"It does concern the hostage situation, but I'd rather not discuss it just yet, sir, but only because it may or may not pan out to be nothing worth pursuing. I've got some feelers out on the matter; as soon as I've determined that it may be an avenue worth exploring, I'll bring it straight to you."

For a moment, Fitz contemplated pushing Cyrus on it, but recognized the thought for the petty action it was. Instead, he decided to let it go for now. He had a duty to the American people and that had to preclude whatever his own personal feelings might be.

Before Defiance he might not have even thought to question Cyrus about it at all; the blind trust was gone - blown away - but Fitz had to acknowledge the usefulness of his Chief of Staff's means and methods.

At least that's what he tried to tell himself; but truthfully, way down somewhere in the hidden depths of his soul, Fitz grieved for that loss of shared purpose and camaraderie. He'd never counted on the isolation that came with occupying the Oval Office and sometimes felt lonely and almost abandoned.

But that didn't mean that he trusted him again. Cyrus at this point was a useful tool and he would use him for just that.

"I trust that you'll do exactly that?" he asked out loud.

"Of course, sir." Cyrus swiftly reassured him.

Fitz felt the other man's eyes heavy on him. He returned it with a hard one of his own.

Cyrus refused to break his gaze, but moments went by before he spoke, as though he'd to come to a decision.

"No matter what what our current difficulties are, Mr. President - I hope that you do know that all I've ever done was do my best to serve Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III. My actions have been, are and always been on behalf of your presidency."

Fitz found himself mildly surprised and at the same time faintly guilty at Cyrus' words. It was the closest the other man had ever come to admitting any fault at all since Fitz's discovery of the Defiance plot.

He found himself feeling slightly off-balance; despite his current feelings against those who had betrayed him, the inherent good that was a integral part of Fitz had no real defense against Cyrus's words.

"Make it a short lunch, Cyrus. I don't have to tell you that there's a lot at stake here, and there are some other matters that I want to go over with you." Fitz stood up and walked to the windows behind his desk. His actions were a clear sign of dismissal. "I'm going to talk with the Joint Chiefs for about forty-five minutes - I'd like you back by then."

He felt Cyrus hesitating as though he would say something. There was a curious feel to the silence hanging in the air between them. Then it drifted away and the moment was lost.

"I'll be there, sir." Cyrus said. Then there was the sound of footsteps retreating and the quiet click of the door as it closed behind him.

Fitz remained by the windows in deep thought for several minutes before he turned back to his desk. He punched the intercom button on his phone.

"Lauren, I'd like you to pull up some information for me."

/**/

"I'm not happy about this, Cyrus." Olivia said as she walked into his office.

"I know you're not, Olivia." he told her. He went on setting out the platter of salads with various toppings on a small side table he'd had brought in. "And I wouldn't have asked you here if it wasn't necessary."

Olivia's displeasure faded at the sight of her former mentor. He looked harried and stressed - more than usual, she added to herself.

"You look tired, Cy. I'm sure James is not happy with you right now."

He flashed a weary smile at her, recognizing her attempt at making him smile. "Yes - yes he is. I had to promise to eat a healthy lunch today so that he would allow me to leave this morning. And you, young lady, you're my witness."

"I'll do that gladly." she said, happy that she'd managed to make him think of something other than work even if it was only for a moment.

They sat down and started serving themselves. Cyrus apologized again, even though she tried to stop him.

"I know that the White House is the last place you want to be. It's just that we're on such a high alert right now, there's very little time for me to get away. And Fitz..." he shrugged helplessly.

Her insides had tightened at the sound of Fitz's name. "You don't have to explain that to me. Remember, I used to work here." Olivia told him.

She warred with herself before she spoke again. "Cyrus, what about Fitz?" she clamped her lips shut, refusing to allow herself to ask anything more specific than that.

Cyrus eyed her apologetically. "I should have never brought his name up. It's just that - he's not well. He's tired and frustrated and angry. He doesn't need this happening right now. Those operatives were on the ground before we came into office; we just let them continue as they were. But Fitz is behaving as though he'd sent them in himself."

"He feels guilty." Olivia murmured. "Personally responsible."

"Exactly." Cyrus said. "I tried a few times to convince him of the truth - that he wasn't the one who had sent them in and they knew the risks when they accepted the assignments."

"And?"

"The third time I said anything, he nearly bit my my head off." Cyrus stopped to pour himself a glass of lemon and mint infused water. "Just one more mark against me."

"A mark?" Olivia put her fork down for a moment. "What mark?"

Cyrus sat back in his chair. "He's displeased with me. He's been displeased with me for awhile now. He also is doing his best to keep me on a tight leash. We're not working together - not like we used to do.

"Just this week, I came in to find him consulting with a high-ranking member of the NSC. He's decided to bring her in on this - not that there's anything wrong with that. But the fact remains that he never said a word to me about it beforehand - not even a hint that he was thinking about it."

Olivia frowned as she took in Cyrus' expression. "That's not like him."

"No, it's not." Cyrus agreed. "Just today, I tried to reassure him that I was always on his side and always will be - but I have no idea if my words made a difference or not. He pretty much dismissed when I said what I had to say."

"I wish I had something else to say other than give it time." Olivia said. "At least he is still talking to you."

Neither one of them said what they were both thinking; that Fitz had basically cut Olivia out of his life.

"He wasn't pleased to find out that I had coffee with you the other day."

Olivia sighed. "Why am I not surprised? And he would be furious if he knew I was here now."

Cyrus' lips twisted in a parody of a smile. "Is it wrong of me to take pleasure in that thought?"

Olivia's smile matched his; she knew Cyrus well enough to know that from time to time a small bit of revenge would please him to no end.

"No, it would only be you being you. Remind me to try and stay on your good side." she said.

They both laughed at that and dug into their meals, purposefully keeping the conversation light until they were finished.

Cyrus summoned someone to clear their plates away and when they had gone, Olivia glanced at her watch and changed the subject. "Since we are both on a tight schedule today, you really should tell me why you needed to meet with me."

Cyrus brought her up to speed with what he knew about the current situation, stressing the fact that some of the hostages were actually CIA operatives working undercover. No one outside of the necessary White House staff knew this.

"What I was hoping to get from you was some kind of intel from out there."

"I don't have that many international contacts," Olivia said doubtfully.

"We're working through back channels of our own for that." Cyrus said. "But you have access to high-powered channels right here in D.C. I want you to see if you can connect the dots between any possible allies here and back in East Sudan. Allies of yours, who are not necessarily ours. Not openly of course."

Olivia's eyes lit in comprehension. "Now that I might be able to do."

"You would have to do it yourself." Cyrus told her. "As few people as possible need to not know about this."

"I trust my people, Cy." Olivia reminded him in a sharp voice. "I trust them with my life."

"This is not your life we're discussing. These are the lives of not only people who've been trained to put theirs on the line every day, but also of just regular Americans trying to do some good in the world."

Olivia had to consider his words. "I can't promise you that Cyrus. There's only so much I can do on my own. My people are my eyes and ears for a lot of what I do."

She paused and thought for a moment. "I'll look into it, see what I can do on my own. And the moment it becomes obvious that I need to bring my people in, I will let you know first before I make any further moves. How does that work?"

The two of them barely heard the knock on the door before it opened.

"I'd like to know just what it is that's supposed to be working?"

Both Cyrus and Olivia were stunned as they turned to see Fitz standing in the doorway.


	21. Chapter 21

Olivia's heart pounded in her chest as her eyes met his. Fitz's gaze was grim - almost recognizable - and she felt herself tremble just a little under it.

His gaze turned to Cyrus. "This was your working lunch that was so important?"

Cyrus stepped forward, in front of Olivia as though to protect her, which made Olivia both happy and sad. Happy to see her friend defend her; sad because he felt she needed protecting from the ice in Fitz's voice and gaze.

"I did tell you that there were other avenues that I wanted to explore and if I found anything concrete worth pursuing that I would bring it to your attention."

"You are also aware that Olivia Pope is currently  _persona non gratis_  in the White House - which is why, I suppose, you deliberately withheld that particular piece of information from me." There was a certain way that Fitz spoke when he was angry; he didn't have to raise his voice but a thread of steel that was cold and unforgettable would enter his voice. Anyone had it directed at them never forgot it.

Olivia hadn't, even though she'd never had the full force of it directed at her. It kept her frozen in place.

Cyrus had obviously had enough. "Olivia may be  _persona non gratis_  within the Oval Office, but there was a time that she was a very valuable asset with this administration -  _your_ administration - when it was only a campaign. A losing campaign - I might be permitted to remind you..."

"Cy - no." Olivia said.

Cyrus ignored her. "Personality disagreements mean nothing in the face of our current difficulties. When it comes to the life and welfare of American citizens abroad, I will leave no stone unturned to get them back on American soil safe and sound. Shouldn't that be our only priority?"

Cyrus' last words seemed to take Fitz aback. With an obvious effort, he bit back the harsh words hovering on his lips. Instead his eyes left Cyrus' and swung back to Olivia's.

She felt the anger in them on her skin like hot sparks against her skin. This time they were met with a rising anger of her own.

How dare he look at her like that, she thought angrily. As if he'd forgotten the role she'd played in his election. As if she hadn't continued to work for his best interests not only after he became president, but even after she'd left the White House to start her own business. She had made a mistake, true enough - she'd own that. But he was not going to be allowed to stand in front of her and disrespect her.

"Enough!" Olivia snapped loud enough that both men ceased their own bickering to look at her. But she only had eyes for Fitz. She met the challenge in his eyes with her own.

She held up one hand, fingers spread and extended, ticking off each count of words. "Three - I do not appreciate being spoken of as though I was not in the room. Two - I have always been loyal to this government. One - in the matter of loyalty - there has never been a reason to question  _me_. If there is, then state it here and now - put it all on the table!"

Fitz's eyes hardened even more. He never took his eyes from Olivia's, but when he spoke, it was to Cyrus.

"We were supposed to meet in the Oval Office ten minutes ago, Cyrus. You can wait for me there."

"Sir?"

Fitz spared him a glance. "Are you loosing you hearing?"

"No, sir." Cyrus said. "I just don't think it's wise..."

"Neither did I say what I said in the form of a question. In other words - it wasn't one."

Cyrus stiffened as though he'd been slapped.

Fitz remained silent.

Olivia returned Fitz's glare.

It was Cyrus who broke the tableau. "Olivia...?"

"I'm good." she said without looking at him.

Cyrus looked at the both of them, then left the room quietly.

/**/

Moments after the door clicked shut, Fitz turned his gaze on her. "You have no business here." he said flatly.

"I only came because Cyrus asked me to." she shot back defiantly.

His eyes narrowed. "Cyrus. Yes, I'll be having a conversation with him later."

"If you'll move and get out of my way, I'll get out of yours so you can get to it."

"What were you and Cyrus talking about?"

"You can discuss that with Cyrus when you talk to him."

He moved to stand before her. "Loyalty - it's amazing how the two of you are loyal to each other when it suits you. Don't forget, I remember the times when you weren't."

"I could say the same. Does Amanda Tanner ring any bells?" Her brown eyes filled with fire.

"I said it before, and I'll say it again - you want to have it out, then let's do it. Let's lay everything all out on the table and be done with it!"

His eyes filled with a rage just as much as her own. For Fitz it began to burn even brighter because his reaction to her. How many times had he told himself he didn't want her?

Now, face to face with her, Fitz couldn't help but notice how lovely she was. Olivia was in one of her signature white outfits, a simple shell dress that fitted her slender body perfectly. Her make-up was flawless as always, with the soft blush pink lipstick that he preferred. Unwillingly he remembered how soft her mouth always looked- always tasted...

The tension headache that had been nagging him all morning suddenly sprang back into being with a vengeance, sharp shards of pain throbbing insistently into his temples.

Fitz didn't realize that the pain washed across his face, changing his expression.

/**/

Olivia knew that his words had a double meaning, that they were meant to. Frustration boiled up inside her. She was tired of this death by a thousand cuts. If he didn't want her here, why couldn't he just open the door and let her go? Why put the both of them through this?

Those thoughts dropped away from her as Olivia saw Fitz's face suddenly twist in pain.

"Fitz?"

"I'm - I'm okay." he said, even as he raised one hand to press at his temple.

Olivia looked at him, alarmed.

She shook her head. "You are  _not_  okay." she told him. Worry filled her eyes.

She turned from him and started to head towards Cyrus' telephone - only to feel his hand slip around her waist and pull her body backwards against his own.

Olivia let out a silent gasp as his other hand came around and settled itself on her hip. She held herself very still as it began sliding, slowly and suggestively, up and down.

This time her gasp was audible as she felt his lips press against the side of her throat, sending a blossoming of heat through her body. She knew why she should fight it, wanted to fight it, but in spite of all that had come between them, Olivia's eyes fluttered shut as the blaze in her began to smoulder, threatening to flare; to sear her control and common sense to ashes. His lips continued to press soft kisses against her skin.

"Fitz..." she managed to choke out.

He shifted against her, lifted his head. Fitz's breath was warm in her ear, causing her to shiver. "I think it could happen right there on that desk."

A shock went through her as she realized what was happening. Those were the words he'd said to her the night of his inauguration, the night he'd danced with her, the night that he'd told her that she was the most important person in his life, that he couldn't stop wanting her, loving her - and proved it by making love to her right on the desk in the Oval Office.

"Fi-" She never got the chance to finish saying his name.

His hands tightened on her, turning her so that she found herself in his arms. Everything in her head and heart collided as his lips came down against her own.

Time fled between one breath and the next as his tongue swept inside her mouth to tangle softly, sweetly with her own. That first kiss took her senses by surprise, giving her no time to defend herself against her memories, his touch, her heart, their love...

Olivia felt his head shift so that he could press his mouth more firmly against hers. His arms moved; his hands - warm and strong as they ever were - slid up and down her body in firm caresses that molded her body to him, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She struggled against her response, but it was fruitless. She hadn't felt so weak in the knees since... since the last time he'd touched her.

Olivia moaned a little, knowing that she was drowning. In her memories, under his kisses, in the love she'd tried to so hard to bury - all of it was rising up like a tsunami determined to drag her senses under.

What finally saved her was the fact that they eventually both had to come up for air.

Olivia's hands flew up to his shoulders, pushing at his shoulders. At first, he wouldn't yield; Fitz had been as lost in her touch as she'd been in his. Slowly his eyes cleared as his senses returned to him.

As she watched, the passion ebbed from his eyes. When she pushed at him again, this time he let her move him.

Fitz took a step back.

Olivia did the same.

Their eyes came up to meet one another's but neither of them knew what to say.

"What just happened?" Olivia finally managed to say. Her voice was a shocked half-whisper. "Fitz? What happened? What's wrong? Are you all right?"

Fitz just stared at her, his expression showing the full knowledge of what he had done clear on his face, but before she could ask him again, he turned on his heel and walked out of the office.

Olivia lacked the strength to do the same. Her entire body still trembled in the aftermath of Fitz's touch. Her mind was filled with chaos as past and present collided. Her senses, her heart, the same.

Blinded by it all, she managed to find her way to Cyrus' chair. A shaky hand pulled it out and then she was sinking down slowly into it, staring at the door in a mix of total shock and confusion.


	22. Chapter 22

There was no phone call that night. Or the night after that. Olivia surprised herself when she realized that she'd been waiting for it, wanting it, almost needing it.

Tired in her mind as well as her soul, Olivia decided to make it an early night. She shut off the tv and took herself and a bottle of chocolate wine to bed. Maybe if she drank enough, she could get some sleep.

Before settling herself into the plump pillows on her bed, she switched on her bed side radio. Which after a moment, she started wondering if that had been the best idea. It was late enough in the evening that the Howard University's radio station had started its Quiet Storm session.

And a quiet storm was the right phrase for what was happening inside her.

She wouldn't allow herself the luxury of lying to herself. Olivia had promised herself that she would move on. There was nothing she could do about the fact that Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III had pushed her out of his life.

He'd had every right to.

_Did he?_

She couldn't argue with his reasons why.

_But why hadn't he at least given her the chance to explain?_

Everyone else seems to have gotten a free pass on Defiance. Mellie was still the First Lady, Cyrus - still Chief of Staff. Verna might be dead, but she'd died as a Supreme Court Justice and that had been a goal in life. Even Hollis Doyle was still going on his merry way.

But only she, Olivia Carolyn Pope, had been banished from Camelot.

She reached for her bottle and poured herself another glass.

It wasn't fair.

_Life's not fair..._ His voice slid into her mind like fresh warm honey.

"Get out of my head." she muttered out loud.

Olivia took a large swallow from her glass, letting the silky chocolatey taste slide past her lips and across her tongue. It was so warm and smooth that she closed her eyes to make its enjoyment last longer. She did her best to concentrate on that. Anything so that she wouldn't think of him.

Her eyes opened, then involuntarily flicked to the phone.

She licked her lips slowly, savoring the sweet aftertaste of the rich red wine notes in it. The taste reminded her of sweet stolen moments in time, of the way his body tasted against her lips; the smoothness of the muscles beneath his skin, the contrast of that with the slight roughness of the hair on his chest.

It wasn't fair!

One simple - all right - not so simple - kiss had shaken the walls she had carefully put in place after the scene - the non-scene - they'd had at Verna's funeral. The time when she realized that he knew about Defiance and her role in it.

They'd crumbled into nothingness after the day of Ella's christening and she'd worked so hard to rebuild them since then. And now they lay as dust at her feet.

Olivia drank deep from her glass again, welcoming the release the wine gave her. One song ended, blending effortlessly into the next, taking her thoughts with it. The mix of sensuous mix of vocals and saxophone pouring over her was making her feel - she closed her eyes and sighed out loud - she didn't know what she felt any more.

In her head, she was hearing the soft and low wordless growl of desire he always made right before he brought his lips down on hers. If she closed her eyes, she could feel his touch, his hands on her, the way he could make her mindless with a simple kiss.

She still couldn't get that kiss out of her mind. Olivia opened her eyes wide, trying in vain to banish her treacherous thoughts. She couldn't.

Her body wouldn't let her. And neither would her heart.

All from a not so simple kiss.

She drained her glass, then before she could think about it, poured another one.

Stop thinking about him - they were over, she told herself sternly. What had happened between them was nothing more than a memory gone wrong. Cyrus had told her that he was under more strain than usual, that the doctors had told them that a memory lapse here and there was pretty much a standard side effect from a shot from the head.

That and that alone was the only reason he'd kissed her.

Even so, the memory of his mouth on hers still echoed inside her with a bittersweet pang.

As if her body's reaction wasn't betrayal enough, the phone chose that moment to ring. Her heart began to pound while Olivia stared at it. She knew without even having to think about it, who was on the other end of the line.

Olivia clenched her fist shut for a second, trying to still the shiver that had coursed through her. Then she stiffened her shoulders and picked up the receiver.

As she had expected, silence was the only thing that greeted her.

The music played; the wine was smooth on her tongue as she drank. A strange sense of relief came over her as she met his silence with her own. Olivia closed her eyes as she shifted her body into a more comfortable position against her bed's upholstered headboard.

The silence was warm this time. Instead of the hurt and regret that usually filled it, this time was different.

This time there was an odd sort of comfort in it. It was odd, she thought, that she should feel that way. She refused to think about the reasons why.

She refused to think at all.

Instead, Olivia reached over and turned off the lamp on her nightstand.

Now it was just her, her wine, the music and moonlight.

And Fitz.

The quiet storm flowed over her, lessening the storm that was in her. The clink of the iced drink on his end was joined by the soft swallow of wine on hers.

Even if they were no longer together, tonight she could pretend that they were. And so, she said nothing that would break the illusion.

As the music played on, neither did he.

The silence between them was enough. The music said it all.

What brought Olivia out of her reverie were the lyrics of the first song of the third long song-mix. It spoke of everything they used to be - everything they'd hoped to be. Every word of love he'd ever spoken to her was full of it.

It filled her with courage she didn't know she needed up until this very moment.

Olivia shifted the phone against her ear. When she spoke, her voice quiet, hushed even. The music a sweet and soulful background to the words her soul was compelled to speak. It wasn't even so much the words, as to just talk to him. To know he was at least willing to listen.

"Hi."

Silence answered her.

But he didn't hang up.

She didn't know what else she was going to say until the words were coming out of her mouth. It didn't matter. Olivia had no intentions of begging or pleading. She'd made her apologies and she was done with those too.

Because she had her pride too. She was hurt too. And even though she'd missed him terribly, they couldn't really talk - not as equals - until he was ready to talk - to listen. And they weren't there yet. They were a long way aways from that.

"I couldn't sleep either." she said. Again her heart thumped heavily in her chest. Her throat tightened a little waiting for the disconnect she half-expected and half-dreaded.

Instead, the silence on his end took on some new un-nameable quality. Olivia could have sworn she felt the change as it happened - and nothing - including her gut - could convince her that she wasn't right.

"My head, my heart - they're all mixed up right now. I think that I lost focus about what was wrong and what was right a long time ago." she said.

"In the light of day, everything seems so cut and dried. There's the reality of what has happened. There's the facts that this is what's happened and these are the consequences I need to accept; this the penance I have to pay. But in the night- it's exactly the opposite. It's like logic sets with the sun, my heart rises with the evening star while my soul rises with the moon.

"But I'm working on that." Her heart slowed and the peace that had came to her earlier returned. "I hope you are doing the same. However you need to do it -  _even if it's without me -_ I hope you are getting better."

Words spoken long ago resonated in her mind.

_"We can't do this."_

_"I know. I can't talk to you, I can't see you..."_

_"Pretend I'm somebody you hate."_

But back then, they'd known that could never be. They had never saw a time when that wasn't true. But here they were. And as far she knew, now he really did hate her.

She wished she could. Even while Olivia recognized that she never could truly hate him, she wished that she could. It would make certain things that much easier.

A part of her wanted to cry. Wanted to release the control she always held on herself, break down and admit how very much she missed him. Needed him and wanted him. Wanted to beg him to come back to her. Wanted him to beg her to come back to him.

Yet she couldn't. Not only for herself, but for Fitz himself. She will not beg. But the truth was spoken nonetheless.

"I want you to be well - I  _need_  for you to be well."

But still, he said nothing. And Olivia found that there was nothing else she could find to say in the moment. There was nothing left for her to say - and yet that was all right.

And the music played on. Of lovers lost and times gone by.

In the now, time passed, flowing like a river, and with it, came a growing sense of peace; peace she hadn't been able to find for a very long time now. It was shared, she knew.

Even through the tears that threatened to fall, she smiled.

"I think I can sleep now." Olivia said. That much was true, she wasn't ready to admit anything else.

"I hope you can too." It was all the goodbye she had in her. "Fitz, I really do want that for you."

What she didn't - what she couldn't say was that it was because she still loved him - that her love for him still - and always - wanted the best for him. Even if that meant a life without her.

Something made her hesitate for just a moment before she hung up.

In the days to come, Olivia would be glad that she had.

"Good night... Olivia."

He would never know what those three words would mean to her.

"Good night... Fitz."

This time they hung up at the same time.

Olivia closed her eyes; before she drifted off, her last conscious thought hoped that Fitz could do the same.

And unexpectedly, a smile graced her lips as it followed her into a peaceful sleep that was long overdue.


	23. Chapter 23

Fitz hung up the phone with Olivia's words lingering inside of him. At least this time he'd been able to listen.

He was in the Oval Office, sitting in the dark, glass in hand. Feeling the darkness in his soul overwhelming him as it did almost every day. The liquor helped.

Sometimes.

He wasn't drunk, he thought to himself. He knew that Cyrus and Mellie thought that he was, but he never ended up truly drunk, although he tried for it many, many times.

But the pain never allowed him that escape.

Fitz didn't know why he had started dialing her number again. He didn't know why he had nothing to say when he did. Why before this, he'd hung up every time she'd begun to speak.

She'd learned the rules quickly though - that was Olivia Pope through and through. Always fast on the pick-up, almost always the first one to solve a problem.

He wondered briefly if she'd been the first to come up with Defiance as a solution? Mellie said it was Cyrus, but he knew better than to believe anything that came out of that lovely, lying mouth.

Dismissing Mellie from his thoughts, he replaced them with thoughts of Olivia instead.

His body had tensed when she'd started speaking. There was a part of him that didn't want to hear it - there was also a part of him that needed to.

He tried to find the peace that the sound of her voice used to give him - but he couldn't.

The fact that he couldn't filled him with an indescribable agony.

He gulped at the last of his drink; his body tensed as he heard her again and again and again.

With angry determination, he thrust them out of his mind and poured another one. After returning to his chair, he glared up into the darkness of the Oval Office. There was a war inside of him; Fitz had lost his heart. It was buried deep beneath his anger, deep beneath the many betrayals that had broken him.

And he was. Broken. Unworthy.

Fitz needed no more proof of it than the way he'd treated Olivia the way he had a few days ago. He'd used her to satisfy a momentary lapse in judgement.

Why? Because he was weak, a loser - he was everything his father had said. Hadn't they all proven that? The people who he'd thought were loyal to him, thought that they'd believed in him proved that they'd believed Big Jerry instead? Why else had Defiance had even happened?

The pain that rose up to engulf him drowned his thoughts. Fitz could do nothing to fight his emotions. All the lessons that had been pounded into him for as as he could remember rose up to overwhelm him, making him more helpless than ever.

Fitz rose up from his chair and stumbled from the room. He didn't deserve the right to sit in that chair, that room, this place.

He stumbled his way from the Oval Office to the residence, one last drink clutched in his hand. In his head, the accusations continued - inner voices pounding into him.

 _Liar!_  they cried.

_Fraud!_

_Loser!_

All the words his father had ever called him came back to him now, and every voice was the voice of his father. Never loving, never satisfied; always accusing, mocking, condemning... His life was a lie, his love was a lie. Every moment of every day - everything he was was a lie, a fraud visited upon the American public...

... And that meant he was everything his father had said he was. Even to the core of him; his heart; where his heart had been - Olivia had ripped it out and turned it into stone.

Fitz made him way into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He left everything on the floor. The glass, he took with him.

He turned the water up to as hot as he could stand it, welcoming the steam that rose up to fog his sight. The last thing he wanted right now was to see himself.

He was a hollow man and there was nothing to see.

The water poured down, the steam billowed up, and Fitz closed his eyes and drank.

He couldn't fine the release he'd been seeking in the scotch. He couldn't find forgetfulness either. Earlier on the phone with Olivia, he'd thought he'd found a moment of peace, but it had passed not five minutes after he'd hung up the phone.

Why had she been one of the cabal that had betrayed him. He could almost understand the others; if he looked at it objectively, he could even accept it. He knew who they were and their ambitions.

But not Olivia. He'd met many people in his life - many women in his life - but no one who had exploded into his life - into his heart the way she had.

In between one glance and the next, everything in him had reacted to her with a force that he'd never experienced in his entire life.

Despite his anger,  _her_  face floated up before him in the steam. Her eyes gazed up at his, fearless.

_"I would be lucky to have you."_

Those words had slipped out of his mouth without him knowing that they had lived within him. In the face of the exquisite loveliness of her how could he have ever known how true those words would come to be?

Up until the day he'd met her, his life had never prepared him to meet a woman who would want him simply for who he was.

_I know you because you let me know you..._

But he hadn't known her at all - had he? A sly treacherous voice inside him reminded.  _You didn't know her, never knew her._

He would not be tricked again, he told himself.

A cool draft played against his back and thoughts interrupted, he turned to see the source. Stunned, Fitz could barely speak.

"Mel-Mellie?"

His wife smiled at him. Fitz was sure that she meant it to be genuine, but even through the drifts of steam, he could see the brittleness and calculation in her face.

"I know you haven't been sleeping well lately - I just thought I could help with a different kind of nightcap." She moved closer and brought her hands up to run her hands across his shoulders.

"Mellie - no." He couldn't explain it, not really - but the idea of her touching him - Fitz shuddered at the thought.

She mistook it for a sign of arousal. Her smile widened. "You don't have to do anything - I'll do all the work."

"Mellie - don't."

She ignored him; instead she pressed her body against his just before she began to slide downward.

Fitz closed his eyes. A part of him wanted to let her give him release - maybe it would ease his pain. But he couldn't let go of the hidden calculation in her eyes.

In its wake, a surge of revulsion rose up in him. He couldn't use her - and neither could he allow her to use him, manipulate him any more than she already had.

Fitz reached down and closed his free hand around her wrist, dragging her to her feet; he was unaware that his eyes had gone a cold almost icy gray-blue - the hue of arctic ice.

"I said -  _don't_!" he didn't mean to, but his voice almost raised to a shout.

He'd scared her, he saw. Fitz snatched his hand back from her as though it burned. That wasn't what he'd meant to do. No matter what else he might be now, he was never one to hurt a woman.

 _But what has he done to Olivia?_ Fitz pushed the unwanted thought away. She was reaping what she sowed, he told himself. The both of them had.

He focused instead, on the woman standing before him.

"I said no Mellie - and I meant it."

The shock in her eyes faded. "I was only trying to help you. You need help, Fitz."

 _You need me to need you to keep your place as First Lady._ That was the thought foremost in his mind as he looked at her. His expression went cold and still.

"I didn't intend to scare you, Mellie - but I meant what I said. No. Next time - have the decency to respect  _my_ wants,  _my_ needs and  _my_ choices." He wanted to smile at the bitter irony in his words. If she had ever done that, his life would be a whole lot different than it was.

But he wouldn't say it out loud - he wouldn't give her the ammunition. If he had his way, he would never allow her to see him in his weakness ever again.

Inside he felt a pang of bitter satisfaction as his words struck home and her eyes filled with guilt.

Fitz turned, gulping down the last of his drink. He held out the glass to her.

"If you want to give me something I really want, bring me a refill."

Her face paled as though he'd slapped her, but she took it and left the shower without another word.

Fitz stepped under the shower, letting the water stream over him. He closed his eyes and this time, when her voice came back to him, he held on to the memory as though he would never let it go.

It followed him, even into his dreams. And for one night at least, Fitz found rest.


	24. Chapter 24

A few days later, as Shireen had told her would be the case, Olivia received the vetting package issued; she spent the evening at home filling out the forms.

As usual, she had her favorite news channel on to keep her company and a bottle of wine on one hand and a bowl of popcorn on the other.

Just as she was finishing the last of the many-paged document, it was close to eleven o'clock so the top of the hour newscast was beginning.

Of course, the leading story was the hostage situation. It had been eight days since they'd been taken. Without realizing it, Olivia began forming in her mind her ideas of how she would have been handling the press situation from the White House.

As soon as she became conscious of what she'd been doing, Olivia pushed those thoughts out of her head. She did  _not_  work for the White House any longer. She did not work for  _him_ any more either.

Her head knew that - but her heart wasn't one hundred percent convinced. Not yet.

Olivia was surprised to feel anger at the thought. Fitz was done with her - he'd said the words and made it very clear by his actions that he was done. Well then, so be it. Forget what happened in that phone call, she told herself. He was drinking, he had been sad, he had been hurt.

And so was she.  _Let it go_ , she told herself.  _Let it be._   _Give yourself the grace to know what you can not change._

She drained the rest of her glass in one long swallow and poured another before she could think about it. All the while, her eyes were focused on the screen, but she wasn't really seeing it. The images dancing before her eyes were of Fitz and her and the last time they'd come together.

After the fact, she'd hated him. She'd hated herself even more. But she couldn't lie to herself; while it had been happening, Olivia had felt so differently. For a few stolen moments the months of isolation and abandonment had melted away. It was the same now as it had been then - and she couldn't - wouldn't allow herself to be used and hurt any more.

That turned out easier said than done.

Olivia closed her eyes, willing the memories to go away, but they wouldn't. Behind her closed lids they only grew more vivid, the images running one into another like watercolors in the rain.

After James' toast, she'd tried to slip away unnoticed, but before she'd gotten too far, Olivia heard footsteps behind her. It wasn't necessary to look behind her. She knew who it was. Every inch of her did.

Her heart began to race, now as it did then. Olivia tried to hold herself together. It was enough that they had had to stand face to face during the ceremony; bad enough that their fingers had had to touch while holding baby Ella.

Bad enough that his eyes had bored into hers and wouldn't let go.

Bad enough that she couldn't take her eyes from his.

Olivia tried to concentrate on the end of the hall; all she had to do was make it there. She didn't want to talk to him, she couldn't talk to him - not here, not now.

He didn't give her the option. Suddenly, Fitz's hand was under her arm, snatching her away from escape. She was propelled through a doorway she hadn't even noticed was there, into a room that was a world away from the bright lights and carpeted hallways. She blinked, trying to re-orient herself in a space of dim lights and silence.

Fitz didn't give her the chance. He was on her before she could think; his body pressing against her own, his hands - warm and strong catching and holding her head in place - while his mouth sought out hers.

His kiss was demanding, relentless. It filled her with fire, equals parts of rage and passion, snatching both breath and reason away.

The sound of her hand across his face crackled like a shot. Fitz took a step back but his eyes never left hers. The only reaction she saw was in his eyes. They were intent upon hers, yet unpenetrable, impossible to read in the dim lights, yet powerful and potent enough to hold her still.

Heart and mind rebelled until outrage - _did he think she merely a toy for him to play with whenever he pleased? -_  and desire finally imploded, burning the meager defences of pride and pain into ashes. Then she was in his arms, her own coming up to pull him to her, his sliding around her in a possessive grip that was pleasure almost to the point of pain, her soft lips opening desperately beneath his demanding almost punishing kiss, never knowing until this moment, how much love could hurt - how much love could need...

It was not a time for tenderness, it was loss and pain and memories - and yes, love in all its rawness - that drove them both into one another's arms.

 _Damn him_ , the thought rippled through her.  _Damn him to the seventh circle of hell and back -_ Fitz had always been a dominating lover and he knew her all too well, knew how to bring her into helpless, willing submission.

He was doing it now; his mouth traveling over her flesh, tongue tracing heated patterns on her skin. His mouth sought out the softness of her neck, and her head fell back at the sensation of his lips against her throat.

When the high-necked scoop of her dress held him from moving further down, from seeking out the pulse now beating madly in the hollow of her throat, she heard him growl almost soundlessly. One hand slid up to cup her chin, and then he was turning her in his arms, molding her body against his own. She could feel the length of him, hot and hard and ready for her.

Hands fumbled greedily at her zipper, baring her skin to him. She gasped as his lips found a sensitive spot just behind her ear; tongue and lips played at it and then moved, lower - lower, sliding hot and moist against her skin while she whimpered -  _whimpered-_ in need.

His harsh gasps echoed that need in her ear and caused her to arch against him. Moments later, his hands were tugging at the last remaining barrier between them, flimsy silk sliding down her thighs, and everything became a heated blur; he was in her, stroking endlessly inside of her. His mouth never stopped moving, lips and tongue licking, suckling, devouring her. Hands grasping hers, then gliding over her body, stroking at her most secret, erotic places with a sweet familiarity that melted her to the core.

She moaned and the sound of her sent his mouth swooping onto hers. Olivia felt herself soaring higher with desire as his body reacted, driving even more intensely into her.

His hold on her shifted, one hand zeroing in, pressing upon at innermost point of her pleasure and her senses dissolved into pure molten bliss. She knew what he wanted, what he needed - he needed for Oliva to find her release while he was deep inside of her.

He wouldn't stop - she wanted him to never stop. She wanted... She wanted what he demanded it of her. Fitz always had, there was always the need, for her to reach her pleasure before he did. She knew what he wanted and ached to give it to him.

Olivia shuddered, her pulse beating madly as his body, his hands, his mouth brought her ever closer to the edge, ever closer to ecstasy... until suddenly, there was no other choice left to her. Olivia spasmed around him mindlessly, again and again and again...

"No!" a ragged gasp escaped her lips. Ripples of remembered pleasure surged through her body, even as Olivia's eyes flew open, finding herself suddenly back into the here and now.

Her breath caught with the intensity of quaking inside of her, her body quivering with the memory of him. She caught up her glass and downed its contents, trying to fight the ache and echo of desire still ember-warm inside of her that took too long to fade away.

Olivia set her glass down, very very carefully. She stood, she moved, she turned off the television and then the lights.

She stood silently in the dark for a very long time, damning him as she had so many times before.

/**/

The night was long and empty, with little sleep to be found there because of the traitorous thoughts that intruded. At first light, Olivia woke up with a nagging headache and a more than irritated disposition.

She'd be no good at work like this, Olivia decided, so maybe she should try and sleep in a little - why not, since she was the boss? She called into the OPA offices and left a message on the office voicemail; it was easier than calling one of her team - she was in no mood to deal with questions. She had a good enough reason - she'd walk the vetting forms for Shireen over to the Pentagon herself rather than deal with a delivery service. Decision made, she turned over and let herself drift off into a short but thankfully dreamless sleep.

It was mid-morning before she'd managed to get herself out of bed, showered and dressed and on her way by car driving across the river to the Pentagon complex.

After being signed in, a few inquiries led to her being directed to the appropriate department within the complex. She was surprised to learn that her destination was within the Joint Chiefs of Staff offices; then again, she recalled, they were away from the casual visitor.

Olivia was explaining her purpose to the officer-secretary on duty and was just about to hand over the packet when a vaguely familiar voice came from behind her.

"You know, you could have just waited to meet me again Friday." He let a self-confident grin come over his face. "But I can understand why you couldn't wait to see me again. That date was too far away, right?

She turned around in surprise. It was Jake. Looking all too handsome in officer navy blues. Captain Jake, she noted from his insignia.

"Of course it is." he went on, answering his own question. "Not that I blame you...I'd look forward to spending some time with me too. You could have called - I would have come to you."

His arrogance and grin was charming - charming enough that Olivia found herself unable to resist smiling back at him. For the first time, she noticed what an attractive shade of blue his eyes were. After her restless night - she told herself - she needed something to take her mind off of the thoughts that had been plaguing her in the dark.

Seeing her smile, his own grew wider. "Captain Jacob Ballard, at your immediate service."

Olivia lifted an eyebrow. "Immediate?"

"Immediate." he said, an absolutely devilish gleam springing to life in his eye. "I'm a naval man - we're always prepared for any event - even beautiful women showing up unexpectedly at their doorstep."

Olivia chanced a glance at the woman officer that she'd been talking to. Her face was one of amusement. Obviously she was used to him and his attitude - and his conversations.

In spite of it, she smiled. And so did Olivia.

"I am not here on your doorstep - I'm here on business - not to track you down." she told him.

"Business." the way he said the word made it clear that he was inclined to doubt her intentions.

"Yes - I'm here to submit an employment vetting package." She began to explain, but he cut her off before she could get farther into it.

"Well, it just so happens that this would have come across my desk, so..." he let his voice trail off. "Doorstep."

"Well then, I guess I have to trust and put myself in your hands." Olivia said, deliberately leaving him an opening that she knew he would take.

"Smart as well as beautiful." Jake replied. "A lethal combination if ever I saw one." He gestured with one hand to the corridor of offices off to the left.

"Shall we?"

"Shall we - what?" Olivia suddenly realized that she was being deliberately provocative, but the alpha male in Captain Jake Ballard was bringing that out in her. And damn him if he didn't know it. His eyes lit up in appreciation.

"Once step at a time, Ms. Pope. Will you follow me?"

 


	25. Chapter 25

It was quiet between them while he went over the forms she'd delivered, and this gave Olivia the chance to look him over more carefully than she'd had a chance before.

He filled his officer's uniform nicely, Olivia had to admit - if only to herself, at least - and most definitely not to the handsome officer sitting across from her. It was obvious from the way that he carried himself that he knew it. He also had her somewhat intrigued - again, a thought she thought best to keep to herself.

Olivia was familiar enough with the Pentagon's layout to know that the closer one was to the inner ring, the higher was the inner dealings and connections of the person possessing an office within it.

That the office he'd led her to was located deep within the maze of halls told her gut that Capt. Jacob Ballard held a fairly high-level position within the inner circles of the Defense Dept.

After a time, Olivia couldn't help but ask what it was he did.

Jake Ballard lifted his eyes from the paperwork in his hand.

"A little of this and a little of that. Sorry, but it's mostly classified - as you can guess. But mainly, I herd cats."

Olivia lifted an eyebrow. "Herd cats?"

"Do you know any computer techs? They're a breed unto themselves. Just like cats - stubborn, unpredictable with a tendency for a need to be independent but with a certain something special all their own."

Knowing what she did about Huck, she had to agree. "Do you play with computers, Captain?"

"Jake." he corrected her. "I know enough to be dangerous, but that's about it. However, I am an excellent liaison..."

"I'll just bet you are." she murmured.

His eyes told her that he'd heard her. "...Therefore, I maintain a good rapport with the real techs though, and that makes me good on analysis concerning their - quirks."

Olivia - again thinking of Huck - let out an unexpected chuckle.

Jake's smile grew even wider at the sound. "I see you are familiar."

"Definitely." she said.

Their eyes met in amused and mutual comprehension.

Jake went on with his explanation. "Well, a while back, a few studies were done and it seems that allowing some of our higher level tech people benefit from being allowed to play in other sandboxes every now and then decreases stress and actually makes them more creative and productive in the work they do for us. Which - before you ask - I am unable to talk about further."

"They must be doing some very intense work for the government." Olivia tried a simple probe. After all, the more she knew about Shireen Davis, the better she could work for and with her.

"I'm not at liberty to say." Jake replied. His eyes told her that he saw right through her attempt. "And just what is it you said that you do?"

His move, obviously.

"I didn't say." she told him with a look that was meant to tell him that she saw right through his words. "But I run my own business - its a management firm of sorts."

"Of sorts." he let that remark go. "But that doesn't tell me what you do."

"Let's just say that with the clients I manage, I'm not at liberty to say." she tossed his own words back at him.

"Mystery with a touch of intrigue." He smiled in appreciation. "I can't wait until our date."

"You said it wasn't a date." she reminded him.

"You're right - but it  _is_ the start of a beautiful friendship."

Olivia found herself raising an eyebrow at his remark. "And you are so sure - why?"

"Kismet, fate..." he said. "Unfortunately, we will have to postpone our destiny. When I stopped by to pick up some of that most excellently recommended wine - the chocolate red went over magnificently, by the way - I was informed that they postponed the event until the next week because of a later delivery of one of their classic vintages."

"So much for your idea of fate." Olivia said.

"Fate is in your favor." he said with a suddenly straight face.

"Is it now?" she couldn't help but play along.

"It's all part of the plan. You get the exquisite pleasure of anticipation in seeing me again." Again, the self-assured smile spread across his face.

It really was a nice smile, Olivia had to admit. She had always like boldness in a man. Alpha-males had always been an attraction for her.

Somehow, he must have read her thoughts in her face, because Jake's smile blossomed into a knowing grin before dropping his gaze back to the papers before him.

This time, Olivia sat quietly until he had done.

At last, he looked up. "Everything appears to be in order. This still has to go before an approval committee - as I'm sure you can understand - but there's nothing I can see that stands out as an immediate red flag for a security risk. Your references are excellent as well as impressive."

He should be, Olivia thought. Instead of explaining further, she settled for an uncommitted smile.

Again Captain Ballard - Jake - smiled back at her in perfect understanding. She was starting to like that about him. Maybe they could develop a friendship of sorts down the line. If nothing else, it couldn't hurt to have a friendly ear in the Pentagon

"And now that the entertainment part of the show has concluded, can I offer you lunch?" he said.

"It's a little too earlier for lunch, don't you think?" She glanced at her watch; there was at least another hour or so before noon.

"If you say so - how about a cup of coffee instead?" He was obviously not taking no for an answer.

Olivia glanced at her watch. "I really think that my appointment schedule is full today..."

"I'm guessing it's like that most days."

"Really?" she said.

"Really. You strike me as a very driven woman. Tell me I'm wrong."

She couldn't. Not really.

"So. One cup of coffee - what harm could it do?" he said, satisfied that he'd guessed right.

"That is the question of the day." Did she really have a reason to say no?"

None that she could think of, off the top of her head. "There is a certain coffee kiosk near the White House park where they brew it just the way I like it..."

"Done." he said, coming to his feet. "Allow me to drive you to your car and I'll follow you."

It seemed he was determined not to take no for an answer. It would remind of her of someone else - if she let it. Olivia decided that it wouldn't.

Besides, she asked herself again, she asked herself - what harm could it do?

* * *

 

She'd warned Jake that she hadn't much time before she had to return to her own office, but that hadn't seemed to deter him at all. Olivia couldn't help but wonder at the fact that it appeared that he could come and go within the offices of the Joint Chiefs as he pleased.

Neither could she help but question him on that.

"Herding cats takes a special skill, in case you hadn't noticed." he explained to her. Olivia had guided him to her favorite kiosk and shortly after, they found themselves an empty bench to enjoy their coffee.

"I've noticed." Olivia said.

"And I'm very good at it, so I have a great deal of freedom to deal with it. As you'll discover, I'm good at lots of things."

Olivia was surprised to find herself laughing. Again. "I'll bite - what kind of lots of things?"

He waved a hand in the air. "All kinds of things - this is why I'm asking you to sit back, relax and just enjoy the Jake Ballard Experience. Nothing else like it in town."

"I'm sure there isn't." she said wryly. "I wonder what else you do, Captain Ballard?"

"Didn't we already visit this portion of the program? Jake."

"Jake?"

"Of course; you and I are going to become great friends."

"Are we?"

"Yes. Of course. After our date for the wine-tasting event - you'll see."

"Captain Bal... Jake - I've already told you - and you've already agreed - that that was  _not_  a date. It's just two people meeting for drinks."

"So you did - Olivia - but I'm betting you'll change your mind. I think you could use a good friend."

"And what makes you say that?" the way he was looking at her just then sent a ripple of emotion her, one she couldn't quite pin down. Not unease exactly, just a sensation that he saw more into her than she was prepared to accept at the moment. She didn't know if she liked that or not.

His hazel-blue eyes looked straight into hers. "Can't we all use a good friend?"

There was no denying that, Olivia thought. Her feelings shifted because his words struck a little closer to home than she cared. Even so, with all the drama that had become a daily part of her life, it  _was_ nice to just sit and enjoy a stress-free moment. Especially with a handsome man that was obviously doing his best to charm her with his humor.

And succeeding.

That revelation sent a tiny shock through her; suddenly and unaccustomedly flustered, Olivia dropped her eyes from his.

But only for a moment. Before she could do anything else, two fingers had slipped under her chin, raising her gaze back to his. Olivia couldn't help but notice the strength - and warmth - in them.

"It's okay, Olivia." he was saying to her in a softer tone of voice that sent a coiling of - something undefinable - spiraling through her body. "Your friendship is all I want right now."

He stood. "In fact, to prove that - I think it's time I got back to work. After all, too much of me can be a hazard to your health. I usually suggest small doses as part of the..." he paused to smile expectantly at her.

This time she said it with him. "Jake Ballard Experience."

Her unfamiliar shyness disappeared as she smiled up at him. "I am almost disappointed that the wine-tasting is postponed."

"Remember - anticipation is the first symptom." Jake said, letting his grin do the rest of the talking for him. He put out his hand and Olivia took it. "I'll be seeing you - maybe sooner than you think."

"We'll see." Olivia said.

"Yes, we will." Jake said. He made his goodbyes and walked away.

* * *

 

Olivia allowed herself a few more minutes of fresh air before leaving the park. She sipped at the remnants of her coffee and just let herself take a moment to just rest, to think of nothing of important at all.

She sat back on the bench, watching busy people walk by. That same busyness filled most of her day; she wondered what reasons they had for what they were doing. Were they just taking care of the business of every day life, or was it to bury other matters - matters of the heart - beneath the veneer of work?

How much was it all just a sham?

She shook her head; there was no use in dwelling on such somber thoughts. And oh, wasn't she being all philosophical all of a sudden?

Her eyes roamed the park once again and was surprised to see a familiar face. Faces, actually.

Still some distance away, James was out in the park, pushing Ella along in the baby stroller that Olivia had purchased for a christening gift. At least it was one of the more practical ones she'd bought.

Olivia smiled despite the thoughts she'd just been having. There had been tons of plush and frilly presents to go along with the more practical ones. If there was anything that would lift her spirit it would be a surprise visit with her god-daughter. She stood up, ready to call out to James, but before she could, a familiar but unwelcome voice was sounded from behind her.

"So, what pie do you have your fingers in now?"

Olivia turned slowly to take in the sight of her former fiancée, former lover, former everything, Edison Davis.

"Hello, Edison." Olivia said very carefully.

"How polite we are today." he said, tension dropping his voice low.

She sighed. "We're over, we're done. Let's keep everything amicable, shall we?"

He made a sound of derision. "By all means, let's not make a scene."

Olivia felt her temper rising. It wasn't her fault that things had gone wrong between them - not all of it, anyway. "No, we don't need a scene - now if you'll excuse me..."

"Maybe I shouldn't." he interrupted her. He moved to block her. "Maybe I should look into why you were just sitting on a park bench with a member of the intelligence office of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, looking very cozy and comfortable with him."

"Why that is, is no longer any of your concern, Edison. I thought I made myself clear on that point."

"Crystal clear. I'm sure that you think so - but what if I don't agree?"

"Then I suggest that you look into seeing someone as to why that is." Olivia said. She glanced around Edison's large frame, seeing James heading down another path away from them. At the same time, she saw another familiar face. David Rosen, her sometime on and sometime off ally and rival. He was jogging up the path that James was heading down.

She sighed again. If only she'd moved a few minutes earlier, maybe she wouldn't be trapped in this conversation. Even David usually wasn't this maddening.

Why couldn't Edison just accept that it was over? She didn't take kindly to being threatening - as he had done, nor being questioned and bullied. All sins laid at his door.

And then there was the matter of Fitz. No man could compare to her former lover - in or out of bed. Edison had just had the bad misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Edison moved again so that she was blocking her view of the two men just as they met up.

"Can you at least give me the courtesy of listening when I'm talking to you?" he said.

The morning's enjoyment had been erased. Olivia looked up at the man she'd once cared about. "I don't see why. Didn't you call me a whore, an idiot and a liar not too long ago?"

He spread his hands out in appeal. "I was angry..."

"And when people are angry, they can usually be counted on to say what they mean." This time it was Olivia who raised her hands. "We're done, Edison. That means you don't get to question me about who I talk to at all."

She'd talk to James another time, Olivia decided. Edison was impossible to talk to when he was like this and she wouldn't inflict him on her god-daughter or her father. Before Edison could say anything else, Olivia turned and walked away, heading straight for her car.

Unfortunately, she didn't the expression on his face as he stood there staring angrily at her back, his hands slowly clenching and unclenching his fists.

Neither did she see James and David Rosen stop and engage in what quickly took on the appearance of a very intense conversation.

If she had, she would have sworn it looked like they had planned it.

**__ **


	26. Chapter 26

"There's a reason why I don't let Cyrus work on Sundays." James said to Olivia as he opened the door. "Maybe I should just point at you as an example and then there would be no need for me to say another word."

"Hello to you too, James." Olivia said as she stepped inside. Working around the brightly colored bags she held in each hand, they hugged in greeting.

"I mean it." James said. "You're almost as bad as he is. You work those pretty little manicured fingers to the bone 24/7 and look at the result."

"It wouldn't work - I learned all of my bad habits from him and he knows it." More amused than annoyed, Olivia looked at him, her expression almost daring him to going on.

"And you can just take that expression off of your face, because yes, I am going to say it -" James said as he closed the door behind her. "The fact of the matter is that you look like you hardly slept at all - even at the end of a long weekend."

Olivia realized that she couldn't really argue with James; as hard as she did work during the days to keep herself busy - the nights were too often a totally different story. Her mind wouldn't turn itself off, her thoughts were on a loop, replaying past moments of her life that she didn't want to remember anymore.

But they wouldn't go away, so she knew that that was why she couldn't summon the strength to argue with James.  _Damn it,_ she thought, _Cyrus' husband was right_.

Olivia managed a smile. "Well, that's why I'm here - I'm sure that a visit with my god-daughter will help."

She held up her bags. "And I come bearing gifts."

"What is it this time, toys, dresses, or hair accessories?" James asked as he led her in the direction of the back yard.

"A little of everything." Olivia admitted, smiling a guilty little smile. She had never realized how much fun it was shopping for a little girl. Another thought tried to rise up in her mind, but she squashed it down ruthlessly before it could begin to take shape.

"Well, at least that's one thing I won't have to worry about." James said. "Our daughter will grow up with an excellent sense of fashion and style - and she'll need a walk-in closet before she's ten."

"I planned to have that in place by the time she gets to kindergarten."

They laughed together.

"I bought sleepy-time books too, of course, but you should see what else I bought." She went on to describe her favorite finds as they walked through the house. One of them was this plush little lion that even Olivia - high-heeled, high-powered gladiator in a suit - had fallen in love with.

"...The mane is so silky and lush and full, I'm betting Ella will want to brush his hair for hours and hours..." Olivia heard the enthusiasm in her own voice and stopped to laugh at herself. "Listen to me, I sound so silly!"

"So you fell in love with a toy. Well, color me surprised, Ms. Pope. Of course I think you are just trying to re-live your own girlish fantasies through my daughter." James half-mocked her, but his eyes were filled with approval.

"And this is a bad thing?" Olivia asked, knowing the answer.

"Definitely not." he answered.

They came to a hallway that led off to to the kitchen.

"I've got to see to some things in the kitchen - you know the way." James waved her on towards the back of the house and went off towards the kitchen.

She did, and a few minutes later, she'd reached the french doors leading into the back-yard and stepped outside.

Few knew that Cyrus Beene had a passion for gardening. The back yard was lush with fresh smelling foliage and flowers, with a great swath of smooth green lawn in the middle. Cultivating life was his atonement for the death and destruction he spread, he used to joke cynically.

It was a bit early for the flowers to be in full bloom, but the mark of a master gardener was evident, for where the flowers were still lying dormant, multi-hued plants and bushes dominated the area and made patterns to please the eye.

The sun was climbing overhead, and it was just the right time of day and the year to enjoy the first warm breaths of spring. Friday and Saturday had been cooler and rainy, so today was a pleasant surprise.

Instead seating themselves at the more formal arrangement of wrought iron tables and chairs situated at one side of the yard, there were a few blankets and body-pillows tossed into a casual circle. James' doing, no doubt.

Cyrus was seated on one of them, Ella cradled in his lap, giggling as he read her a story from a book. He looked up to flash a smile at Olivia before he went back to his storytelling.

Olivia slipped off her shoes and settled close by, content to not say a word.

No one would believe the sight before her unless they saw it with their own eyes. Cyrus Beene, the terror of the D.C. government scene and the president's personal political dragon, sitting shoeless and tieless on a blanket, making nonsense noises and singing.

Olivia couldn't help but laugh - but it was good laugher - happy laughter that banished some of the shadows in her soul. Cyrus - who she knew had not been as keen on having a child as James had been - looked happy - just like any new dad would.

He finished with a flourish, causing Ella to laugh with glee. She reached up and patted her father's cheeks with both tiny hands, giggling again as he kissed each palm.

He looked over to Olivia. He gave her a look. "Don't say it."

"Say what?" Olivia asked in all innocence. "I'm laughing with you, not at you."

"Sure, that's what you say today. Tomorrow, it's back to the arenas and I just gave you ammunition."

"That is something that we will not discuss today." she said.

"That is something that we will not discuss today." Cyrus agreed. He paused before changing the subject. "I thought you liked rainy spring days."

"I do."

"You used to say you used them to unplug, unwind and recharge."

"I do."

"Then why do you look like you haven't slept a full night's sleep in the last few?" he countered. "This should have been a perfect time to rest up for you."

Olivia knew better than to lie to Cyrus; the man was far too observant and knew her far too well to lie to.

"Because I haven't." Olivia told him. She sighed a little. "James said the same. But I could say the same about you."

"You would be right, I haven't either, but at least I know the reasons why." Cyrus said. "Not to mention sharing late-night baby patrol." he joked unexpectedly. They both laughed, but his eyes stayed on her, measuring and evaluating.

Olivia found herself hesitating, suddenly unsure if she wanted to tell Cyrus about the late night phone calls from Fitz. She'd already betrayed his confidence once; she didn't have the strength, the will or the heart to do it again. So in the end, she said nothing.

But Cyrus, as discerning as ever, looked at her closely with eyes as wise as an owl. In a rare moment, he let down his armor. "What is it, Olivia? What's got you so out of sync with yourself? Or do I even need to ask?"

Feeling his penetrating gaze on her, Olivia refused to meet his cool blue eyes.

The only answer he got was a tiny shake of her head. No, he didn't need to ask. That was also something that they were not going to discuss today.

There wer much better things to concentrate on. Olivia reached out her arms for Ella. Still refusing to look at him, she kept her eyes focused on the little girl.

Thankfully, Cyrus didn't pursue the conversation; instead handed his daughter over and the two of them smiled as she greeted Olivia with a sweet and happy, welcoming smile.

"I never would have thought that little girl would bring so much sunshine into my life."

Not trusting herself to speak, Olivia closed her eyes as she hugged her close. Feeling the little girl's arm wrap themselves firmly around her neck, Olivia found her eyes sting with unexpected tears.

"Funny how an unexpected love can change everything in a minute." Cyrus said quietly. "I wasn't onboard with this, not 100%, not the way James was - but then, there she was and I lost my heart before I could think about it.

Olivia didn't trust herself to answer him - it had been the same way for her.

Instead she reached for one of the bags and spent a few moments finding the plush stuffed lion toy and showing it to Ella. It was a soft golden hue with a silky mane of chocolate brown. Ella seemed to fall in love with it immediately, hugging it tightly in her small arms while she and grinning at it happily.

Olivia had also brought a toddler-sized brush for Ella and when she handed it to her, the little girl instantly began to go to work on the lion's mane.

"You two had better not be discussing work." James said as he rejoined them, a freshly sliced fruit tray in his hands.

"Only in a roundabout way." Cyrus said, giving Olivia a chance to recover. "Force of habit."

"Well, quit it." James said. He looked at the toy Olivia had brought. "Perfect," he said with a smile. "Now when we read our animal books, we can play with our ever-growing menagerie. Between Cyrus and I, and you and the President, she's going to have enough stuffed pets for Noah's Ark in no time."

She tensed up at the reference to Fitz, but Olivia forced herself to breath and smiled. "I thought that might be the case. Cyrus told me about how you want to give her all the educational toys you wanted for her. I thought this might fit the bill - and still be fun for her."

"It definitely does." James smiled back at her.

"So he's let you in on his plot." Cyrus said. "Did he conveniently forget to mention my opinion? There will be plenty of time for all of that educational toy nonsense. Right now, I want our baby to just enjoy being a baby."

James turned to Olivia. "Do you see what I have to deal with?"

Olivia laughed, the moment of sadness and longing in her swept away. with their words. "Oh no, no and no. I am not getting in between the two of you. You two are going to have to fight this fight without me."

She purposely turned back to Ella and nuzzled her close.

"Isn't that right, sweet baby girl?"

Her own words jolted her badly. She hadn't realized what she was saying until they were already past her lips.  _Damn._  She thought to herself.

Olivia tried to mask her own reaction, pretend as though her words were no big deal, but she could feel Cyrus' eyes on her, still measuring her, as though she were a puzzle he was close to solving. After a long moment, she felt his eyes turn away and she breathed a sigh of relief.

The three adults made themselves comfortable, each of them taking a turn holding baby Ella as they chatted about the only the lightest of D.C.'s goings-ons. They could hardly get away without talking politics on some level, but as if by silent agreement, they kept the subjects light and their conversation with it, content to enjoy the unexpected warmth of the day.

They had at least thirty minutes before Cyrus' cell phone rang.

James frowned. "I thought you had turned that thing off."

"You know I don't have a Monday through Friday, nine to five job. Never have, never will." He gave James a look that said.  _Don't start._

Olivia sent James a sympathetic glance. What Cyrus had said was true enough. James had known it from the start - but that didn't mean he liked it.

"I promise I will get finish the call as soon as I possibly can."For Cyrus, that was an apology. He gave them both a look before standing up and taking himself elsewhere to deal with his caller.

"I know he hates it," James sighed as he watched him go. He turned back to face Olivia. "And I know better -I don't mean to nag him, but Cyrus is not a young man - he needs to slow down and learn to take it easy once in awhile."

"I'm sure that he knows that your concerns are genuine. And now there's Ella - he realizes that her being in your lives is a game-changer. He just needs to have the time to realize it all by himself."

James smiled again, although this time it was a little more subdued. "And you're probably right.

He sighed. "It's just that... Cyrus is happier than I've ever seen him since we've been together. I don't want him to throw away all that we've gained..."

"He knows it, James." Olivia said. "You've just got to give him time."

"I know." the other man said. "I just wish it was easier for him to slow down. Ease up a little bit before he works himself right into a heart attack."

"You're right, of course, but then he wouldn't be Cyrus, would he?" she said.

"I agree with you. He's happier than I've ever seen him in a very long time." Olivia told him, leaning in to pat him reassuringly on one arm. "He genuinely loves you and Ella and being Cyrus, I don't think he quite knows how to handle that. I don't think he ever thought he'd get to be this happy having a spouse and a child."

She had thought the same once upon a time. Like she had told Edison in one of their last conversations; she had thought she could live the life of a senator's wife, live in a great big house and have lots of babies.

But what she hadn't been able to explain well enough and what he had not been able to understand - was that she didn't want normal.

Olivia couldn't explain it - not in words - not even to herself. She wanted - she  _needed_  - that inexplicable, almost unobtainable, life-changing and extraordinary love. Love that was met on equal terms, love that snared the heart and soul and mind. A love that involved every atom of her being and entwined it roundabout with another, leaving room for nothing - and no one - else.

A love she couldn't breathe without.

All the rest - the babies and the picket fence - all of that came after. Without the love - her heart, her soul - all that she was, would shrivel and die inside.

And she had to face the fact that she would never have that with him.

"And that's going to have to be enough. You're right. Cyrus is who he is." James was saying as her thoughts swirled around inside her head. "And if I'm honest with myself, I wouldn't have it any other way."

He shook his head. "But sometimes I still can't believe I fell in love with and married - a Republican!"

They laughed together.

"The heart wants what the heart wants. It doesn't much care about anything else." Olivia told him.

She knew the truth about that all too well.

 


	27. Chapter 27

James smiled and glanced down at his watch. "And if we're going to eat on time, I've got to go and call that delivery service. They're late - we're having fresh crab cakes and lobster salad delivered from Maryland..."

"My favorite!" Olivia lit up.

"I know," James said smugly. "Cyrus told me. And creme puffs for desert. He told me about those as well."

Olivia smiled. It felt so good to be around friends who knew her so well. A comfort, really.

"You'll watch Ella?"

"You have to ask?" Olivia said with a grin. She held Ella up so that they were nose to nose. Ella giggled and planted a kiss on Olivia. They both giggled. "The two of us will have a little one on one girl time But before that..."

She asked James if he could bring her a brush and a comb for Ella. When he returned with them, Olivia loosed Ella's hair from her small ponytails. Before brushing it out, she took out some of the pastel-toned cowry shell hair accessories she'd bought and sat them in front of Ella. She happily began to play with them as Olivia went to work on her hair.

James smiled as he watched them, then returned to their conversation. "About the one on one girl thing - Cyrus and I are counting on that, you know. Not that I'm asking you to  _be_  her mother, but she does need someone in her life like you. A proud, strong - and yes, I'll be very un-PC for a moment - Black woman."

He smiled. "If for no other reason the style and the - flava - you are going to bring into her life."

"Flava?" Olivia laughed at hearing the word coming from the journalist. "Even though I have somewhat expensive tastes?"

"What girl doesn't?" James grinned back at her. "I don't know anyone else who has such impeccable tastes. Cyrus was all about the first reason - he adores you, you know - at least when he doesn't. "

Knowing how true that was, they both laughed. Depending on the issue of the day, Cyrus' and Olivia's relationship veered from mentor and student, to partners in crime, to friends or frenemies to opponents and back again.

James continued. "You were his first choice for god-mother once we knew Ella was going to be ours. I agreed, but you got my vote for the second reason as well. And neither one of us could think of a better role model for our daughter to grow up with."

Olivia was moved by James' declaration and said so.

"This isn't something you haven't heard from me before." he said. "The reason I'm bringing it up is to remind you of how fabulous you are." He paused. "You look like you need reminding."

James held up a hand before she could deny anything. "I'm not going to pry, but anyone who knows you a little bit, can see it. Cyrus does, and well, even I can. Come Monday you can put your suit of armor on and do battle with the world. Today - well, just enjoy today.

"And now, I'm going to climb down from my soapbox and see to the making sure you get a few of your favorite things."

After James had retreated back into the house, Olivia's smile dimmed just a little even as she played with Ella. James was right so and she decided that she would do her best to do exactly what he said - enjoy the day.

To distract herself from other thoughts, she let herself get lost in enjoying playing in Ella's hair as she began to braid it into narrow rows and watching her play happily.

Ella was babbling to herself she played, eyes full of a simple joy at the colors and love all around her. Olivia had never really given thought to having children of her before - her life was too and too complicate to even consider it at this point in her life.

But now, seeing Ella's pure and simple happiness, she had to smile at the idea. Maybe having a child made you remember how sometimes it was the littlest things that could make someone happy.

Olivia sighed and wished she still had the ability to do the same.

/**/

Fitz sat back and took a deep breath of the mid-morning air, enjoying the scent of morning, of coming spring, of life itself.

 _Sometimes it was the littlest things that could make one happy_ , he thought to himself.

In the complex world he lived in, Fitz had learned to snatch every chance he could to do exactly that. His companion smiled at him as though they could read his thoughts. It could be true. It wasn't that he hadn't known Jocelyn before, but the situation regarding the hostages had thrown them into close contact that they'd had before and Fitz was learning that she could turn out to be a loyal ally - and even better - a true friend.

He wondered idly, when was the last time he'd had that - and Fitz couldn't remember.

They were seated in one of the private Residence gardens, a coffee service seated between them. There were also a scattering of files on the table, budget files for embassy duties, the ruse for anyone that happened to stumble across them unexpectedly. These were issues that had to be handled, but were not a top priority. It gave credence to a Sunday meeting.

He and Jocelyn Davis had been working for more than thirty minutes on them. It was their intention to establish a routine that no one would question.

"It's a beautiful morning." Jocelyn Martin said, as she looked about her appreciatively.

Fitz agreed. There was an illusion of airiness and privacy here, with a copse of dogwood preparing themselves for bloom and cool slate-grey flagstones lined with moss underfoot.

One could pretend they were alone, even though they both knew that the secret service were hovering somewhere close yet out of direct sight.

Fitz and Jocelyn finished their cups of coffee before he rose to his feet and gestured to a nearby path. Jocelyn nodded and standing, fell into step with him as they walked among the trees.

"Have I apologized for monopolizing your Sunday morning?" Fitz said.

"Numerous times, sir." Jocelyn replied. "And I've told you each time that it's totally unnecessary."

Fitz smiled again. It had been a unique feeling, to share this little bit of time with her. Not in the fact that she was indeed, a good-looking woman - but more about the fact that he didn't feel the need to be as on constant guard as he had been for the last several months.

It was a relief to finally be able to not to watch every word that left his lips. A relief not to have to spend his days looking at the people of his every day life, judging them, watching them, seeing betrayal and deliberate calculation with their every movement, their every word.

Cyrus, who shared his days, and Mellie, who laid claim to his nights - and there was Hollis, who was ever-lurking nearby, just out of sight but rarely out of mind.

And then there was Olivia -  _no_  - he thrust the thought of her out of his mind.  _He would not think of her at all..._

The woman walking next to him had proven herself to be a loyal member of his administration. She'd shown that by volunteering her services despite the risks.

Even now, as they seemingly wandered the gardens, Fitz could tell that she wondered why he was acting the way that he was - but she was trusting enough that she didn't question him.

And he didn't have to wonder as to the reason why she didn't.

She trusted in the president and his decisions. Fitz hadn't been on the receiving end of that for too long of a time. The feeling was a good one. Despite the problems set before them, Fitz had actually felt some of the tension that lived in his neck and shoulders on a daily basis ease away.

Much earlier that morning, she had called in on a secure line and Fitz had arranged the ruse of budgetary concerns as the excuse for her presence today. Being that it was Sunday, he didn't expect anyone else to be working, not even Cyrus.

If there was something Fitz thought Cyrus needed to know immediately, he'd call him then. He would see him later in the afternoon anyway, when he'd scheduled a visit with his god-daughter.

"This is lovely." Jocelyn spoke, interrupting his thoughts.

They had come to a small space, surrounded by lavender bushes and wisteria. In the center of it was a small gazebo, created in an ancient Grecian style, with fluted columns and glazed glassed-in walls. Several ivy vines curled all about it, while a tiny stream threaded its way around the base of it.

"Absolutely lovely." Jocelyn repeated. "I had no idea this even existed."

Fitz smiled. "No one does, not really. It's not part of the tour; it's actually just on the border between the Residence grounds and the rest of the White House. Jackie Kennedy had it built; it was one of her escapes."

He turned to her. "I only wanted to make sure that our conversation are private."

Fitz watched as she looked at him carefully. Her keen mind grasped his intentions a breath later and a troubled expression filled her eyes.

"It's none of my business, but I think I understand." she said. She had noted the absence of the Chief of Staff and swiftly drew her own conclusions.

"Thank you." He told her, meaning it. "We have to tread lightly here. A word slipping out, heard and taken in the wrong context, whether accidently or deliberately, could have repercussions far beyond the fate of these particular Americans - as important that they might be."

"I understand, sir. I would never..."

Fitz cut her off with an upraised hand. "No - not you. I have a great deal of trust in you. But along with everything else, politics and insider games are unfortunately in play here."

Her eyes cleared. "I understand, Mr. President. In a republican administration, there is always talk of non-negotiation - on any level."

Fitz nodded. "American's strength in unparalled in the world - but no one needs another war right now - and I'll do anything in my power to prevent it.

"I knew that you would understand that. So you can see that I can't - I refuse to - take any chances. What the two of us discuss is between you and I. I'll keep Cyrus up to date if the three of us aren't sitting in the same room, because for now, this stays between the three of us. What we're doing at this point is only conjecture and plotting, not setting policy or any final decision. When it's time to bring others in, like the Joint Chiefs and my other military advisors, then we will."

Fitz sighed. "I'm hoping it won't come to that."

"As you wish, sir - and I'm hoping for the same." she said. "I do have something of an update -shall we get on with it?"

When he nodded, she began. "Unfortunately, many of my former contacts have either gone to ground or disappeared. Not unusual, considering the on-going hostilities in the region.

"I have, however managed to make an initial contact, with friends of a friend."

She went on to explain further, telling Fitz that even though time was of the essence, these things would take some time that couldn't be helped. Her contacts were through the House of Farouk. They were a highly regarded branch of the former royal family.

"They've claimed allegiance to the current regime, but it's whispered that they have tentacles spread out among several concerns." she told Fitz. "Those contacts are wide and varied; among them are the military, the religious oligarchy who want their own place at the table, as well as the minority rebel factions."

"Keeping their options wide open, no matter which way the winds blow." Fitz said, thinking aloud.

"Exactly. For all of their professed loyalty to the current regime, their true allegiance is to maintaining power, influence and wealth of the House of Farouk."

 _Nothing new there,_  Fitz thought to himself. "Then they might see this as extending a hand to the U.S.?" He asked and answered his own question. "Of course, they might also have their own agenda, using us to promote an entirely separate plot."

"It's a possibility, sir." Jocelyn agreed with him. "And it might be impolitic to do it openly, so they might eb agreeable to lend their support and their own connection behind the scenes. And yes, they might have their own agenda that we're not privy too."

"That's why I wanted to speak with you before moving forward. I could continue to put out feelers and see if I can find out anything else about them, or even look for other means, but I don't know how that might pan might tip our hand that we're seeking backdoor negotiations."

"And that might be best to leave that for those who are trained in fieldwork, Jocelyn."

"If you think that's best, I won't argue with you." she told him. "But remember, Cyrus' reports stated that the operatives that were captured were the best the CIA had in the region. That means that anyone else on the ground in the here and now are unlikely to have the contacts that I have or the information I can possibly - probably - uncover."

Fitz thought that over and had to admit that it was true. It didn't mean that he liked it. His estimation for Jocelyn Davis went up another notch.

"We'll see." he told her. "It's not that I don't have faith in your own abilities, but - well, this could get more than a little dangerous."

"It's more dangerous than what our people are going through." Jocelyn said.

Fitz frowned suddenly and Jocelyn fell silent when she saw his face.

Something clicked into place. The House of Farouk. Mellie, Hollis and his guest. Adaran Farouk.

"Sir?" Jocelyn could see the wheels in his mind working.

Fitz smiled at her. "Looks like my wife might have had a good idea."  _For once._  his mind whispered.

"Sir?" she repeated, puzzled.

"I just remembered something about the House of Farouk." Fitz said, and smiled slightly. If it was a little twisted due to its source, that was okay. "You might want to spend the rest of the day shopping for a new gown. Your formal invitation to the next state dinner will be in the mail in the morning. I'll be thanking the First Lady for the idea the next time I speak with her."

Fitz smiled again, imagining the look on Mellie's face when he did.

 


	28. Chapter 28

Someone else was speaking with the First Lady at that very moment.

"The president and the NSA Special Diplomatic Advisor were working in one of the private Resident gardens up until a short time ago. They had several folders open that they were reviewing together, then they took a break and are currently stretching their legs by taking a walk. Since they removed themselves from my general position, I did not have a chance to overhear their conversation."

Mellie smiled at Hal, her very special conduit into the workings of the White House presidential security detail. Oh, thank heavens for him and all of the very useful things she had learned from him. How easy it had been to convince with her act of the faithful, abandoned wife and how he'd leapt to her protection... Mellie smiled to herself at how easy it all had been...

"And how did they - seem?"

"Ma'am?"

"The president and his advisor. Did they appear - comfortable with one another? Pleased? Tense?"

"I'm - I'm not sure what you mean, ma'am." Hal said. He looked uncomfortable as his eyes slid away from hers. "They were having coffee before they got to work, they were talking and now they are walking together."

Mellie sighed impatiently - every now and then he'd get these twinges of consciousness and it was so annoying when he did.

She quickly figured out that she wouldn't get anymore out of him today, so Mellie thanked him and dismissed him as quickly as she could without seeming rude.

 _Men!_ She thought to herself. How could they be the ones who held so much power when they could be so obtuse at the same time? Another woman would have had no problem understanding her and what she wanted.

Not for the first time did Mellie consider the idea of floating the idea of introducing a female agent in the personal White House secret service detail.

Even though she was alone, she shook her head against the idea. The truth was, she really didn't like other women, didn't trust them much, either. Men, for the most part, were much easier to either get around or manipulate with the right smiles and manners. She'd managed to do that to her husband and every other men around her for years.

A woman getting too close to them might see too much into her own machinations - an intelligent woman would be sure to see her game from a mile away. And that might prove to be - troublesome.

Mellie's lips tightened slightly. All she had to do was look to the example of Olivia Pope to see the truth in that. She had made the mistake of dismissing her presence on the campaign trail, seeing her only as a tool to be used. Just another means to an end on her and Fitz's path to the White House.

She hadn't even really cared all that much that Fitz had bedded her. A happy candidate was a focused candidate. And a focused candidate was a winning candidate. As long as he hadn't been slobbering all over  _her_ , Mellie was more than happy for Olivia to take care of Fitz's highly driven sexual needs. Even after she had borne his requisite son and daughter, he hadn't stopped trying to get her into bed.

It wasn't the only way Fitz was off the path as far as achieving the presidency - he was too willing to belive in compromise, in his faith in the American people as a whole - but it had been one that had been the most troubling for her.

His desires were so -  _raw -_ so animalistic. She didn't like the loss of control he'd tried to bring into their bed. All the sweat, all the movement and positions and - just all of the messiness. He enjoyed it - he craved it.

She didn't.

Thank goodness that eventually, he'd finally figured that much out about her, and had manage to restrain himself to a half-decent weekly encounter. That was about all she could take of him - and she wished she didn't have to give in to him that often, though she'd never said it to him out loud. Mellie was prepared to do her wifely duties, but really - there had to be a limit to what she was supposed to submit to.

If Olivia Pope wanted to deal with that, well then - let her! It was one less chore she would have to deal with. At least that was what she had told herself in the beginning.

Of course, then Fitz had to go and mess everything up by making the colossal error of thinking he was in love with that woman.

Her eyes narrowed at the thought. Olivia Pope was - exotic - that was the pull, the attraction. It had to be. She was pretty enough, with those big brown eyes, high cheekbones and her full lips. No doubt that the combination of her prettiness added to her sharp, concise political acumen were like an aphrodisiac to her husband.

It never occurred to her that a loveless, sexless marriage had driven him to other arms. It never occurred to her, even after he had asked, that the fiction of their life up until now - even the lie that they told about how they'd met - had never been enough for him.

It never occurred to her that her husband might truly be in love for the first time in his life. After all, love was nothing but pretending. Happily ever after was nothing but a fairy tale.

At least now - after all that had happened - he seemed to have gotten over her, admit that the fairy tale had been built on nothing but lies and come back to his senses. Come back to her. She was the wife he needed in the world they lived in. And Olivia was nothing but a dream.

And she wasn't fool enough to let temptation - and another fantasy - take its place twice.

Mellie called for Teddy's nanny. She kept the baby nearby in an adjacent room whenever possible - after all, there was no telling when an unexpected guest or situation might come about and after all, Baby Teddy was her best accessory right now.

"Ma'am?" the nanny appeared in the doorway.

"Wrap Teddy up in a blanket and bring him to me. I think a walk in the gardens might be good for him."

The nanny hesitated.

"Well?" Mellie asked sharply.

"Nothing - except that he just woke up from his nap - so he's a little cranky at the moment, and he needs changing and feeding as well..."

Even better. Mellie thought; aloud she cut the woman off. "Just bring him to me, now. We'll see to the rest later."

 _We_ , the woman thought to herself; she dared not say it out loud.  _You barely spend time with the poor child except for a prop, so what do you mean, we_? At least Teddy's father was around.

Aloud, all she said was - "As you wish, Ma'am." in as neutral a tone as she could manage.

A few minutes later, Mellie was making her way through the Residence's private gardens, trying to soothe a fretting Teddy perched on her hip.

"Just a little longer," she murmured to the little boy. "Then we'll see daddy and everything will be all right."

_As soon as you help me put everything in place as it should be._

She came to the terrace grouping where Fitz and Jocelyn Martin had been working. A short distance away, she spotted Hal, who had left her to rush back to his post. He gestured slightly with his head so Mellie knew which path to take.

Teddy began to wail and fuss a little louder. It annoyed her, because he was making it impossible to listen out for Fitz and his companion. She would have liked to have been able to hear what they were saying before they knew she was there.

Luckily for her, however, when she looked up -  _ugh, she was going to have to change her outfit after this_  - they were coming around the curve of the path towards her.

She put on one of her best smiles, the one that portrayed her as loving mother and wife, and stepped forward.

"Oh,  _there_  you are!" she said to Fitz, ignoring the look of surprise that came over his face and was just as quickly shuttered away. She watched him glance at his watch.

"Hello, Mellie - isn't it time for Teddy's nap?"

"Yes, but the poor thing has just been cranky for the last thirty minutes or so." Before he could react to that lie, Mellie came to him and put Teddy in his arms. "I've tried everything I could think of, but you know how he is. Sometimes he just wants his daddy!"

It was too obvious a move to place herself between Fitz and the other woman, so Mellie opted to take his arm on the opposite side.

The three of them started walking back to the terrace; Fitz was talking to Teddy, soothing him so Mellie started chattering to Jocelyn as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

"Mrs. Martin, I'm sure you remember how it used to be - you have a daughter, yes?"

Jocelyn felt forced into making small talk with the First Lady, but did the best she could. "Yes, but she's all grown up now, thank goodness."

"But I bet you still remember those unexpected Sundays when you and your husband and child just cuddled up and whiled the day away?"

Jocelyn smiled. "Well, my memories aren't exactly the same, but I do know what you mean."

As they reached the terrace, Fitz made a face. "I can see why you're cranky little man, you need a diaper change."

Mellie laughed. "There's a memory I'm sure you don't miss." She turned to Fitz. "Could you take care of that, honey? I'll see Mrs. Davis out."

She turned to look at Jocelyn. "You two are done, aren't you?"

Jocelyn looked at Fitz. She made it clear that they would be done only when he said so. "Sir?"

Fitz nodded. "If you don't mind me seeing to Teddy?"

"Not at all, Mr. President." Jocelyn did not react to Mellie's momentary frown. "If you like, we can be done at this point - I'll get back to you if there are any new developments. before we are scheduled to meet again."

Nodding, Fitz made his apologies and walked away with his son, chuckling and talking to him the whole time.

Jocelyn went to the table and sat down. She retrieved her briefcase and keyed it open, studiously ignoring the First Lady as she began collecting the pages laid out upon the table, replacing them in the folders and putting those in the briefcase.

She felt the First Lady's eyes on her and waited for her to speak.

"I'm sure you can appreciate the amount of pressure and work there is for the president." Mellie began.

"I certainly can." Jocelyn said.

Mellie sighed out loud. "I really wish he would try and take it a little bit easier - at least on an occasional Sunday. Pressure and stress can do such awful things to a man."

"I agree, except unfortunately, it kind of goes with the job if you work in D.C."

It irked Mellie somehow, that the woman kept right on picking up the papers she and Fitz had left on the table; Mellie wished that she had had time to stop and at least look them over - she wanted to get an idea of what the two of them were working on in such secrecy. Even more so since this time Cyrus was nowhere in sight. To have something that he knew nothing about, made Mellie practically glow at the idea.

"That's right, I guess you would know" she said. "I remember now, you worked here before Fitz and I arrived in the White House. Seems like a lot of people had- have a great deal of trust and faith in you."

"I do what I can." Jocelyn tossed the words off so easily that Mellie couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment. Resentment that this could have been her, at ease in the White House gardens, doing work that  _mattered_ ; respected by past and present members of the White House staff and every one around her.

The woman was closer to Fitz's age than her own, but it was plain to see that she was still a beautiful woman. There might be a few laugh-lines at the edges of her eyes, but they were clear and warm and it was obvious that she didn't need much make-up to enhance her appearance.

She reminded her of an older Olivia Pope - poised and confident in a way she could never quite manage to achieve. Mellie felt her resentment turn into something deeper, darker. It made her next words come out a little sharper than she intended.

"You must be dedicated, to come out on a Sunday morning to work." Mellie said as she watched the other woman carefully. "I wonder if your husband minds losing you to the White House."

"I should hope not; when he met me, I was already in my current position." Jocelyn said. She smiled a tight little smile. "My husband has always been understanding of the requirements of my job."

Jocelyn took a moment to look up at the First Lady. "He respects my ambitions and always has, so he's also been very supportive as well. So it's been no hardship at all - I'm pleased to place my talents at the service of the President if it pleases him."

That stung, as it was meant to. Mellie circled around so that she was facing Jocelyn. Her eyes traveled up and down the length of the other woman's body. "Talents."

Jocelyn put the last of her papers into her briefcase and secured it. She raised an eyebrow at the First Lady's tone - and words.

"What talents would you say you have?" Mellie asked.  _And what tricks do you think you want to pull with them?_  She thought to herself.

"The ones that make me qualified for the position I currently hold, Mrs. Grant." She said looking Mellie directly in the eye.

"And do you have any thoughts towards any other - well - positions?" Mellie asked. Her voice, while pretending to soft and genteel, was underlaid with the obvious insinuation.

The look on Jocelyn Martin's face told Mellie that the other woman realized exactly what she was saying. Her dark brown eyes narrowed with the beginnings of anger.

Mellie was unmoved.

Instead of answering right away, Jocelyn swept the remaining folders into her briefcase and clicked it shut, her movements clipped and short. When she had done, she stood and faced her.

"I would hate to be rude - it's such a small and childish thing for adults to indulge in." Jocelyn said at last, her own tone making it clear that she saw Mellie as being exactly that. "But is there a point to this conversation, Mrs. Grant? If there is, I wish you would get to it."

Mellie shrugged her shoulders lightly. "Not really, I suppose. I mean, as long as we're clear on everyone's positions in the White House, there's no real point at all.I know my place and you know yours. It's all the understanding we need."

"My position? My place?" Jocelyn lifted an eyebrow as she looked back at her. Her eyes seemed to study her, putting her in some predefined category. She said nothing for a long, long moment until Mellie started feeling a little intimidated by the hardness of her gaze. Her temper began to rise and she pressed her lips together.

"Know my place?" Her papers safely stowed away, Jocelyn stood and walked over to Mellie so that they were standing face to face.

"This one time, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you don't really understand what you're saying to me. You might want to ask somebody, the next time you get the chance. But you're only getting the one."

Mellie's eyes widened. Jocelyn didn't give her the chance to speak. She spoke slowly. She spoke clearly. She wanted to make sure that the First Lady heard every single word she spoke.

"You don't want to go there with me, Mrs. Grant. My position is wherever and whatever the president requires of me." Jocelyn said softly. "Be it the Oval Office, or anywhere in the West Wing, that's where I'll be - where I am needed. Where my position is  _not_  - is in the East Wing - and that's your domain, is it not?"

She paused to take a breath. "I do not work for you, therefore I do not answer to you. Are we clear about that?"

"Anything that involves my husband's administration, involves me." Mellie said defensively. To Mellie's surprise, the other woman stepped even closer, intruding into her personal space. Mellie didn't like the nervousness she felt rising inside of her, but she couldn't control it and she knew it was showing. She could see in Jocelyn Davis' face that the other woman knew it too.

"Whatever your husband chooses to share with you, is none of my business. Whatever my president chooses to share with me - is mine - and definitely none of your business. Please do not question me about my place again - I know very well what that is. The question is - do you?" Jocelyn said. "Your place is not to question policy - so stay in your lane, Madame First Lady."

She took a step back and reached for her briefcase. "Good morning, Mrs. Grant - and I do hope you enjoy the rest of your day."

Jocelyn began to walk away, then turned back just before leaving the patio area. She held up a finger. "Oh, before I go _ I will share part of our conversation. I'll being seeing you at the state dinner after all - as I'm sure the President will be telling you soon enough - at his invite, I might add. As I already said - remember - I serve at the pleasure of the president."

Before Mellie could even begin to come up with a single word to say, the other woman was already walking away, her heels clicking on the patio stones.

 


	29. Chapter 29

Mellie was seething; what had meant to have been a warning shot across Jocelyn Martin's bow had instead turned into a very polite but very definitely set down on the other woman's part to her.

The shock of it still rattled deep inside of her. What was even worse was that beneath all that cool iciness, Jocelyn Martin had actually scared her. How  _dared_  she, Mellie thought as she stalked back into the White House.

Maybe she should have tried another way, Mellie thought as she made her way towards the Residence. She could have tried for the women in arms together route, but the idea of Fitz possibly falling for another woman had made all rational thought fly out of the window.

Now she was faced with choices to make. Was that woman simply what she seemed to be on the surface - a working member of the administration? - in which case she herself had just humiliated herself for nothing.

Was her gut right or was she seeing ghosts where there were none? She couldn't take the chance. She couldn't wait for another woman to come into Fitz's life and possibly take her place.

Mellie was in for another shock once she reached the Resident quarters. She walked into the nursery, concerned motherly expression all ready.

It fell flat as she took in the scene between her.

Fitz was just buttoning up a tiny jacket on James. A full diaper bag was waiting nearby.

"What's - what's this?" She tried for normal, but her voice betrayed her, and her words came out strained.

Fitz turned to her; his eyes were hard, but his voice was soft - no doubt for their son's sake and his alone.

"You lied to me, Mellie. Again. " he stopped and sighed. "Over such a trivial thing, too. It's getting old.

"You behave as though I don't ask questions about my son. He wasn't ready for a nap - he'd just woken up from one - and he needed changing before you brought him to me."

Mellie just stood there. It had never occurred to her that he would question her or the staff on such a trivial matter. But he had and now her lies laid exposed between them as another barrier to reach him. Inwardly, Mellie swore a thousand curses - She would see that that cow of a nanny paid for opening her mouth.

 _See_ how other women were not to be trusted!

Fitz was looking at her, shaking his head. He wasn't disappointed; he wasn't even surprised.

"But it's all right; I was planning to get out here for a few hours later this afternoon, but since he's just woken up, Teddy and I can go on a little adventure together."

Mellie brightened; maybe this is exactly what they needed, to get away as a family. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Fitz. Let me just grab a jacket - it's nice enough, but the breezes can get a little chilly..."

She was turning while she spoke, but his next words stopped her in her tracks.

"I'm glad you think it's a wonderful idea, Mellie, but it really doesn't matter since you're not invited."

"What?" She spun back to face him.

Fitz had Teddy in one arm and the packed diaper bag in his other hand. "You heard me the first time, Mellie. I am going out with my son and we are going by ourselves."

She was still standing there in disbelief when he walked past her and headed downstairs. "Where - where are you going?"

His matter-of-fact answer was a slap in the face. "Out. And you probably shouldn't look for us for lunch."

* * *

 

Settled in the back of one of the presidential sedans - he had insisted on no limo - Fitz couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Mellie's face as he'd left.

He shouldn't, he knew it - but really - she brought it on herself. She was so used to lying and manipulating to get her way that she just didn't know when to stop. She was really her own worst enemy.

He reached over and played with his son his car seat. "Just you and me, little man." Fitz said to him. "We are going to take a special trip, just you and me, buddy."

It didn't take long before his small cavalcade were pulling up in front of Cyrus and James' house. They weren't expecting him until the late afternoon, but once Fitz had talked to the nanny, he knew that he couldn't have stayed around Millie much longer before they would have locked in an argument and he was just too weary for that.

At least Cyrus would understand. Fitz laughed aloud again; even though the sentiment behind the laugh was bitter, his son didn't know it and he abruptly stopped because of it.

Fitz smiled at him again, even if there was a little bit of sadness in it. Teddy was going to grow up with the full spotlight of the White House on him. It was his job to give him whatever sense of normalcy that he could. That included visits with his god-sister.

If it gave him an escape as well, why not take the unexpected gift?

* * *

 

It was James who was surprised to open his door to find a group of secret service men standing on his doorstep.

The four men stepped inside first and began a thorough inspection of the interior.

"Mr. - Mr. President?" James stammered. He was clearly in shock at seeing Fitz show up on his doorstep. Fitz guessed that Cyrus hadn't told him about the possibility of him showing up today.

He smiled at James. "I think the father of my god-daughter is allowed to call me Fitz - especially in his own home."

James was still somewhat stunned. " Of course, sir - I mean - Fitz. But... but..."

"It'll be a minute before they're through." Fitz said with a motion of his head to indicate the agents. He shrugged his shoulders by way of apology, shaking his head a little. "Sorry, it goes with the job."

He turned his attention to his son, who was sitting quietly enough in his arms, his bright eyes looking around in curiosity. "Have you met Teddy?"

The two men chatted for a few minutes while Fitz's agent completed their sweep. A nod to the president and they moved away to take up their posts.

James gestured for Fitz to follow him and they walked through the house towards the back.

"It was such a beautiful day that we decided on an impromptu picnic. Well, I decided at least." he said with a still nervous laugh. "Cyrus' idea of picnics is a lunch on the balcony of Chez Whatever.

"I have to say, this is a wonderful surprise. Ella will be so happy to have both of her god-parents here at the same time..."

Fitz didn't hear anything James said after that. Both god-parents? His heart felt a sudden swooping sensation pour through it; his gut tightened and his entire body reacted as he took that in.

Olivia was here.

They came to the library that led out into the gardens. James motioned towards the doors. "Since the two of you don't need introducing, excuse me while I go find Cyrus, remove the phone from the semi-permanent place at his ear and give him a little bit of hell for not letting me know that you were coming."

"Don't be too hard on him, James. We had a conversation and it was mentioned. I just found myself free and made a last minute decision."

He could tell James was still a little nervous; it probably terrified him - the thought of having to make small talk about babies and other everyday things with the president of the United States.

Fitz turned back to the french doors as James went after Cyrus. His guts clenched; he was more than a little uneasy himself. It had never occurred to him that Olivia might be here.

He would have thought that Cyrus would have told him that she might be - he would have thought that Cyrus would have moved heaven and earth to make sure the two of them wouldn't have a chance to lay eyes upon one another anywhere outside the White House, let alone at his own house.

But that was before he'd learned about Defiance, Fitz reminded himself - and everything, everyone - had changed.

Fitz moved until he was at a point before the doors but still out of sight from anyone outside.

He wanted to just - for a moment, he didn't know what he wanted. And then it came to him. He wanted to just watch her. Just for one unguarded moment, to just stand there and drink in the sight of her.

She was tense; Fitz could read it in ever line of her slender body. Of course; she had had to known what was happening as soon as his agents had began their walk-through. But she could hardly jump up and run away without seeming foolish.

Besides, Olivia Pope was never a woman to run away from anything or anyone. Not even him. And given how things were between them now, especially not him. That thought sent a tense grimace across Fitz's face that might have been the beginnings of a smile.

She hid it well enough. Her fingers were busy in Ella's hair, skillfully weaving it into a series of tiny braids, but her eyes kept flicking upwards towards the doors.

Fitz watched as Olivia finished the last of her braiding. She bent forward to smile down at Ella, say something to her and kiss her gently on her cheek.

A jolt went through him. As crazy as it seemed to him, Fitz felt that kiss, felt her lips as though they had touched his flesh; the sensation traveled through him, all the way down to the tips of his toes. It gave him a moment of gentle pleasure, but then a wave of resentment rose up in its wake.

 _How well she wore her masks,_ he thought. Bitterness rose up in him again, filling that little bit of pleasure with familiar anger.

This was ridiculous, he told himself. Fitz gave himself a little shake and smiled at his son. There was no more putting this off. He straightened his shoulders, settled his son more firmly in his arms and stepped forward. He was here, she was here and he was here and they would both have to just deal with it.

Olivia looked up at him as he approached her and the little girl and her face was very carefully neutral. Ella was the opposite - her face exploded into a happy grin. "Unca Fizz!" she called out happily.

Fitz couldn't help the smile that came over his face. It would be a long time before Ella could get her words wrapped around Fitzgerald, so Unca Fizz was close as she could get. He wouldn't mind if it stayed.

There was no getting away from, he had to sit down close to Ella even if that meant he had to sit down close to Olivia. "Hi Ella, I brought someone to see you." He said as he sat Teddy down in front of her.

Only then did he raise his eyes to meet hers. "Hello Olivia."

Her gaze flickered slightly, sliding away for a moment before coming back and meeting his. "Hello."

A pause. "How have you been?" Her voice was distant and detached. Polite.

Fitz sought for words to say.  _I've missed you - I still hate you - I want you. We're done..._

In the end, he could say none of those things, even if they were all true. "I've been - busy."

She looked away from him. "So have I."

Her next words came out in a rush, as though she were explaining her presence here. "James has been pushing me for forever to come by so I called him up this morning on a whim and he invited me over. He didn't tell me that you were supposed to come by."

Before he knew it, Fitz was giving her an explanation of his own."He didn't know. Cyrus has been on me too. I talked about the possibility of it, but I had planned to come over this afternoon if I could make it at all, not this morning. My plans - changed unexpectedly."

Something in his voice made her look at him again. Fitz could have sworn that for a minute, it was though she were reading his mind; knew somehow that he and Mellie had had words once again, knew how trapped he was feeling and the need for some measure of normalcy had brought him here. Their eyes caught and held for a moment.

It was Fitz who looked away first.

They were saved from having the struggle of having to hold a conversation by James, who joined them bearing two thermos and cups. He'd heard the last part of Fitz's words.

"Unexpected change can be a good thing. I couldn't have planned this any better for Ella - and your bringing Teddy is just the icing on the cake."

He began to set out the drinks. "For the little ones, I have pomegranate and cranberry juice - and for the grown-ups, the same, only sangria style with this wonderful Merlot I've been saving."

Having James there was a blessing; a twisted smile bloomed inside him as Fitz noticed that both he and Olivia kept their attention on him and the children and studiously kept their eyes from one another. Not that it mattered; he could feel her presence like the touch of her hand on arm, delicate but with an inner strength of will - a will was just as hyper-aware of him as he was of her.

Somehow they all managed to sit back and relax into a peaceful silence broken only by the sounds of the two children playing. In spite of Olivia's presence, Fitz felt the tension start to leave his body.

"What happened to Cyrus?" Olivia asked. "Is he still on the phone?"

"Not anymore." Cyrus himself announced as he walked over to join them. He carefully looked from Olivia to Fitz. "Not to worry, sir, it was nothing earth-shaking - I was just confirming the logistics of a morning meeting. I've sent out the order and there will be no earth-shaking until tomorrow."

"See that you do, Cy." Fitz smiled as the others laughed. Suddenly the day grew a little brighter. "From your mouth to God's ear."

James had seated himself to the right of Olivia, so Cyrus took a seat next to Fitz, settling himself with a sigh.

"Is everything in order?" Fitz asked.

Before Cyrus could answer, James was handing him a glass and shaking his head. "Could we please not talk shop for the time being? No new crises are underway, it's a Sunday and a beautiful day for this time of year. Can't we just enjoy that?"

Cyrus cocked his head at Fitz. "If we don't do what he says, I'll never hear the end of it."

"It's fine by me." Fitz said. "As long as everything is off the record."

James was losing some of the awe of hosting the president in his home and it showed in his smile. "I'm off the clock." James said. "We're all off the clock."

And somehow they all managed to do that for the next little while.

 


	30. Chapter 30

Somehow, Fitz managed to actually find it in him to put himself at ease of a sorts. It was hard but not impossible to push the the problems and issues of the world away and concentrate on the world around him right here and right now.

Well fed, with good company, and the sight of Teddy and Ella playing together, Fitz stretched out and relaxed even more, letting his thoughts drift where they would - a luxury that didn't often come his way.

He hadn't counted on the isolation of winning the White House - or that the possibility of days like this would become nearly impossible to make happen. Usually anywhere he went, it was motorcades and chase cars, ambulances, the secret service and snipers. It was really a miracle he'd gotten away at all today and it probably wouldn't happen for a long time, if ever, again.

His thoughts took an unexpected turn. It wasn't supposed to have been that heavy a burden. Olivia was supposed to have been there. Olivia was supposed to have made things that much more bearable. Olivia was supposed to be there to help with the big decisions and the small, to help him carry the load.

But she hadn't. She'd betrayed him and then she'd walked away with nothing but a formal letter and the pin she'd given him. He'd lost the something special in his life.

And then, everything in his life had begun to go to hell.

Today was not the day to think about any of it. With the sound of easy conversation and children's playing as a comforting sound in the background, Fitz felt himself drifting into a half-doze. The sun was warm overhead, the sangria was sweet on his tongue, the laughter of his son and his god-daughter was music in his ears.

And Olivia was here.

She was here, close enough to sense her presence, close enough to hear her voice. Just for a moment he could pretend that everything in his life was okay. Better than okay. He felt a brief smile curve his lips.

It was obvious that they had noticed him and lowered their voices as a result. He was thankful for it and let their voices lull him further into rest. He was so very tired. The pressures of the days and the inability to sleep at night had been grinding him down to nothing.

Now he was just letting himself rest in the sounds of an everyday Sunday morning.

More than once though, James and then Cyrus had managed to coax a laugh out of her, making Fitz realize just how long it had been since he had heard the sound. There was a part of him that couldn't help remember how she could lift his heart with it. It did the same now, however much he tried to remind himself that it was probably as false as the rest of her.

Or was that just a convenient lie that he told himself?

When she wasn't paying attention, Fitz found himself stealing glances at her from underneath lowered lids, just to see the pleasure on her face as she played finger games with Teddy and Ella, or helped them steady their sippy cups and feed them bites from her plate.

 _She would make such a wonderful mother_  - another errant thought came unwillingly and unwantedly to mind.  _Any child of hers would be so lucky to have Olivia Pope as their mother..._

He couldn't help but compare the scene around him to what it would have been like if Mellie was there.

Bad move.

Mellie would have never been persuaded to kick off her shoes. Mellie would have never pulled her hair back into a simple ponytail. Mellie would have never allowed herself to be seen sitting on blankets in the grass in a pair of jeans.

Fitz tried to remember if she ever had done any of those things, even if only with the kids when they were little.

He couldn't.

Fitz's mood darkened. He had thought he'd known what the burdens of the presidency would be when he had first decided to run for the office. The reality didn't compare to what he'd thought awaited him.

As for Mellie? He knew his wife had been the perfect political asset that his father had always wanted for him. He had even wanted Mellie for herself, at least in the beginning, before he had come to see that the political life was all-consuming to her. It wasn't even really her fault - she'd been bred and raised to be the perfect political wife in every way.

Sadly, she would have never enjoyed a day like today.

A chorus of "awws" brought him back to his surroundings. Fitz opened his eyes to see Ella and Teddy sitting together and holding hands. Even as he watched, Ella leaned forward and gave Teddy a sweet kiss on his cheek.

Olivia, Cyrus and James were all laughing. So were Teddy and Ella and it was all a balm to his soul.

"If this keeps up, the two of them are going to grow up being best friends." Cyrus said with a chuckle.

"They're already best friends," James said. "Can I just state for the record here and now that it wouldn't bother me one bit if they go on to become  _very_ good friends."

Without thinking, Fitz's eyes opened and went straight to Olivia's face only to find her looking directly right back at him. Those three little words packed a punch for the both of them. After all, that's what they had been, once upon a time.

Very good friends. Or at least that was what they had told themselves.

* * *

 

Neither Cyrus nor James had seemed to have noticed their quick exchange of glances.

Fitz quickly shuttered his eyes again, his thoughts going a mile a minute, his thoughts veering colliding, tangling, sharply one against the other. Something had shifted in that moment when their eyes had met and he had no idea what the hell it was.

After their last passionate encounter in the White House, Fitz had told himself a million times, night after lonely night that Olivia no longer had that kind of effect on him. He had drove himself relentlessly in his work, in exercise - in booze - trying to prove that to himself. And with one glance was it now all unraveling again?

He clenched his teeth against that lie. In its wake, a dull anger re-awoke, threatened the lightness of the day like stormclouds on the horizon.

A little later he listened as the conversation changed. There was talk of the sangria running low and Olivia volunteering, then insisting with a laugh that she be the one to take care of the refill.

He waited for a few minutes, pretended to wake up, pretended to need to use the bathroom and followed the directions to find it, leaving Cyrus, James and the babies outside.

In the bathroom, Fitz splashed some water in his face and stared at himself in the mirror, still not sure of what he was going to do - only sure that he was going to do something.

He stopped in the kitchen doorway. Olivia was still there, an empty glass beside her. As quiet as he was when he entered the kitchen, Fitz could tell she knew that he was behind her.

She was standing at the sink looking out into the backyard. She didn't turn to face him; he watched one hand crept up to curl around the sink's edge, as though to steady herself. Olivia said something by way of explantation, but Fitz barely heard it.

Instead he moved so that he was standing only a pace behind her. They stood together in silence, watching the scene outside while something in his heart rolled over and an ache spread through his chest.

He felt her body react, felt her breathing speed up slightly and realized that his was doing the same.

He didn't know what to do and that indecision only fed the darkness in him. Indecision was weakness and weakness was not allowed.

Fitz was startled from his thoughts by the sound of her voice.

"Fitz." Her voice was small, hesitant. "Don't do this..." Her voice was just a little bit unsteady although he could hear the effort she was putting in not to show it.

"Do what?" he knew what she meant but he wouldn't admit it. There was anger in his voice - he couldn't help it - there was a part of him that didn't want to want to help it. She had hurt him and he still needed to hurt her back - and the dark part of him that had had control all this time - that part of him couldn't help but remember that and filled him with that dark desire. "Don't do what, Olivia?"

He had no idea what his voice did to her when it went low and intense, but he sensed a change in her. The silence between them went electric, charged with the knowledge that they were alone. Together.

Yet never had they been so far apart.

He was angry, he was hurt. She was here, close to him.

And then there was this - after so long not being able to say her name without the pain of loss and betrayal clinging to it, the sound of it on his lips shivered through him.

Despite the warning signals going off in his brain, Fitz moved dangerously closer. He just couldn't help himself.

"Don't do - this." one hand came up helplessly, gesturing outside. "The last little while has been ...peaceful. You looked so peaceful and at rest..."

So she had been watching him just as he had been watching her.

Olivia went on. "Don't do this to yourself. I-I don't want to fight. Today has been a good day - please don't destroy it..."

Fitz leaned in, looking over her shoulder. They were close enough now that he could sense every inch of her body so very, very close to his. The sensation of her so close to him danced across his skin, raising the hair on his arms into goosebumps.

Fitz ruthlessly ignored the sensation. At least he tried to. Much easier to focus on his pain than - her and what she did to him - just by being near him.

"Destroy what? That? The sight of the children playing together? Take a good look, Olivia."

He took a moment to take in the sight himself. The old anger rose up in him and the pain of it almost choked him.

Fitz bent his mouth down to her ear. His breath was warm against the curve of her flesh. Being this near to her again after all this time did strange things to him. His heart quivered, his chest aches, his body tenses in a pleasure that so strong that it's pain.

It didn't stop the words from coming out.

"It's not me that's the destroyer - it's you. You see them? Teddy and Ella together? That's another dream you killed for me."

 


	31. Chapter 31

He felt her sharp intake of breath. Before she could move, run away, Fitz slid one hand to cover the one that rested on the sink's edge and felt it clench in response. She froze.

"This could have been you and me - this  _should_  have been you and me." He was so close to her now that there was barely any space between his body and hers.

"Do you know I used to dream about moments like this. I saw this in our future. You, me, our children - sunshine and peacefulness and good friends. I never just wanted you in the dark, behind the scenes, embedded in secrets and stolen moments. I wanted to love you openly - in the sunlight for all the world to see."

He felt her body shake in pain, felt her try to control it and fail. She trembled and choked back the tiniest whisper of a cry.

The sound of her in pain rocked him; it acted like a fissure in the iron facade he'd put up against her, it cracked against the foundation of his anger. Emotions poured through the crack in the wall, but Fitz went on.

"You see them playing together? That's what I wanted with you - it was all part of the dream. Our dream - our future. That's what we were supposed to be.

"Of course, that was before; that was when I believed that you loved me. Before I learned the truth."

"I did love you." Her words came out on a ragged breath. She paused, then made a decision. He could hear it in her voice that she was opening her heart to him; and another rock in the foundation of his pain shattered. "I do."

The part of him that had been so cruelly betrayed had become so much a part of him that it couldn't accept the truth of her words.

"You didn't. You don't." It was that same dark part of him that answered her. His words were harsh, his tone harsher - he simply couldn't help it. She wanted to talk consequences, well let him show her some she hadn't counted on. Olivia Pope, professional fixer, couldn't fix this.

She tried to pull away, but his hold was unyielding. Fitz didn't move, they both knew that her physical strength was no match for his. His grip was like iron and after the one futile attempt, she realized it was useless to try.

"If you had loved me, you would have chosen me. If you had loved me, you would have trusted me. If you had loved me, you would have come to me and  _told me the truth_."

Olivia twisted her body again, not to get away this time, but to turn so that she was facing him. Physically he might be stronger, but mind to mind - heart to heart - she was more than a match for him.

But he wasn't done. "You showed me that I couldn't trust you. Without trust, there's nothing. You left me alone - and empty, with no one around me to trust. No one. If you truly loved me, you would have never left me alone."

Her eyes looked up into his, this time making no attempt to hide the heartbreak in them. His words had embedded themselves deep into her heart.

"That's not fair." Olivia said, not breaking her gaze from his.

For a moment, he was caught up in her loveliness, completely snared by not only her beauty but by the emotions in her eyes. He never could stand to see his Livvie hurt...

_No_. He pushed his treacherous feelings aside. Admitting to her pain was nothing more than weakness. He'd started this and he'd finish it.

" _Life_ isn't fair." he said, his voice rough with a sudden, unexpected and unspoken passion.

If life were fair, it would have made him not bend to his father's will and waited to marry Millie, waited for Olivia to have come into his life at a time when he would have been free to love her. If life were fair, this would be their life, backyards and children and lazy Sunday afternoons and...

"Don't you think I know that?" her voice as rough and trembly with the pain of a score and more of endless, sleepless nights. It was in her eyes as well.

"What you did to me wasn't fair. When you were making your choices, weighing the consequences of your actions, tell me - did you even stop to weigh what they might do to me?" he demanded.

"Yes! No! At least not the way you think." she told him. Looking into her eyes, he could see that the honesty - and the pain - was almost too much for her.

Almost. Olivia would never back down from a fight. She would never back down from her feelings, either.

Or his.

"You're right. Life isn't fair. Life gave you a father with whom you had nothing in common. A man who called you a loser, who never saw or acknowledged your strengths because they were so different and above his own. What I did was wrong, but whatever I did - I did it for you!"

"I  _never_ asked you to go that far!"

"I never thought I would!" she shot back. "I went against everything I believed in - everything I was - for you! And when you found out - you never even gave me a chance to explain!

Her next words came out in a rush.

"I was coming to tell you on the plane about Defiance only for you to tell me that your father had just had a heart attack and died. I knew what that man did to you - I saw it for myself and all I could think about how it must have been growing up with that painful, hateful petty-minded  _bastard_ as a father. And how much I loved the man you'd become in spite of him.

"You were his opposite - you were the better man and instead of honoring you for that, he despised himself more and lashed out at you for it. I couldn't tell you then - that man did his best to make you feel worthless and I couldn't add Defiance to it - I loved you too much to hurt you all over again.

She stared up into his eyes. "I loved you then - I love you now - I'll never stop loving you - and if my choices meant I lost you - then so be it. I lost - but the country got what they needed. I did it for you, I did it for the American people and nothing you say to me will ever make me regret it!"

The passion, the truth in her voice are so painful it were like a punch in his gut. He was blind with it. A wall deep inside of him cracks open and all of his hurt and pain spills out, spills away like water in the desert, emptying his hate into the sands of the past, disappearing as if it had never been.

He bent his head down towards hers, suddenly lost in the nearness of her warmth.

"Please don't." she whispered brokenly, closing her eyes.

They were so close now, their breaths mingled as one. She smelled of sunshine and life and the unique scent of her rises up to engulf him. He can no longer think of anything but her.

"Olivia..." he breathed out her name.

"No..." she shook her head, eyes closed against his voice, his heat - his heart - and hers.

"Livvie..."

The hand that was still holding hers gentled; his fingers found their way between her own. His free hand came up in a mooth caress from wrist, to arm and throat to cup her face, fingers splaying out to hold her still. The touch of silk and satin over a core of diamond-like strength comes to mind as he slid his hand slowly across one cheek to cup her jaw. In this, her strength more than equals his.

It was one of the things he'd loved most about her - she was a diamond swathed in silk - and the truth of that shattered him.

"Look at me."

She shook her head, eyes still closed against the intensity in his own.

Fitz couldn't help himself; he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. And then he was lost.

"You ruined me." he found himself whispering against her lips.

"I'm ruined." she whispered back, her voice shaking. Fitz sensed the single tear that spilled from one eye and traced its way down one cheek.

Instinctively he turns his head, catches the tiny drop of moisture on his lips. It was moist and sweet and salty all at once and the last of his anger leaves him as swiftly as the morning dew at the first embrace of the sun.

"I don't care." he spoke the lie in the softest of voices, just before his lips came back to find hers. Her mouth parted helplessly, breathlessly under his.

He didn't move and neither did she. The only parts of them alive were their mouths, one upon the other.

His kiss was tentative, as slow and as hesitant as a new lover's caress. Fitz gently pulls at her bottom lip with his own, capturing it gently and suckling at it, tasting her. His lips then drift upwards to do the same to the upper one. He presses his lips against them together, learning their taste and texture all over again.

He deepened the pressure of his mouth on hers as he slid them back and forth, coaxing her mouth to open under his.

There's a moment of hesitation on her part - part disbelief, part shock, part pain and sorrow and regret.

He needs to change that, he needs to change them. Nothing else matters except that - and that is everything.

His tongue slides into the warmth of her mouth slid into her mouth seeking hers. Finding it, he drives deeper swirling his tongue against hers, driving against the barrier of pain that he's responsible for.

All the words he cannot say, all the love that was still in his heart - had been there all along - all of it was wrapped up in his kiss

Her response was tremulous and unbelieving at first, then she was kissing him back. She hadn't moved either - their only contact was their mouths one against the other.

Now she was tasting his lips as he had done hers. He lets her take her time about it as she relearned the shape and feel of his mouth, and then she's opening hers freely, inviting his tongue inward, suckling, twining, caressing...wanting, needing, loving?

For a moment, eternity was theirs, all done up in a kiss.

Reality returns slowly.

Reluctantly, they both end the kiss as if by mutual unspoken consent.

Fitz pulled away, opens his eyes to find Olivia's staring up at him. He saw the glitter of unshed tears in them, along with pain and confusion.

What had he done?

Before he could marshal his thoughts, Olivia was speaking, her voice a low angry broken sound.

"You can't keep doing this to me." she spat at him. "You don't get to have me where you want -  _when_  you want!"

She jerked herself away from him; this time Fitz was too stunned to stop her.

Olivia took a few steps away, wrapping her arms around her body as though to protect herself.

From him. Dear angels in heaven, what has he done?

"You tell me you don't trust me - and without trust, we have nothing. Well, I don't trust you! I can't! You don't want me - not with your heart! Remember what you told me - that you may not be able to control your erections around me, but that didn't mean you wanted me.

"I've had close to twelve months of sleepless nights where all I heard were those words over and over and  _over_ again. And one kiss can't erase them."

She stopped, swallowed hard. Fitz imagined he could see the emotion boiling off of her, bleeding her pain into the air between them.

"Livvie..." His hand came up - reached for her. He didn't know why he had done what he had done, didn't know what he was doing now...

"No!" All of her tears, all of her rage was bound up in that single word. "You don't get to call me that! You don't get to stand there and look at me like that with your eyes and think that one kiss is going to make everything all right. I am not yours and- and you can't do this to me."

Before he could answer her, she fled the room. Fitz was left standing there alone.

She was Olivia Pope, the fixer - and she'd just walked away from him, so how was he going to fix things on his own?

He steps closer to the sink and this time it's his hands gripping the edges as if for balance while his world rocked unsteadily beneath his feet. His head sinks low, his heart lower still. Questions fill his mind.

How did they get here?

Where was 'here'?

And she's left him with the biggest question of all - what if she were right?


	32. Chapter 32

The rest of the visit passed quickly enough. He waited a decent interval before following Olivia out back outside, ignoring an inquisitive look from Cyrus.

There was more conversation, more jokes and laughter but it was clear that the morning brunch was ready to wind itself down. Olivia looked at him as little as possible without being obvious about it and Fitz found himself doing the same.

She was the first to leave and again, Fitz waited a decent interval before announcing his departure as well. He bundled Teddy and his things up, gave a kiss and a hug to Ella while his SSA guys checked the exterior prior to his leaving.

Cyrus did walk him out to the car. "I have to say, I was surprised to see you today."

Fitz shrugged. "I surprised myself." In more ways than one, he thought.

"Is - everything all right, sir?" Cyrus asked just before they reached the car.

Fitz raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Just what exactly was Cyrus asking?

Cyrus hesitated, clearly not wanting to clarify his question but clearly felt that he had no choice. "Olivia, sir. I apologize. I had no idea that you and her would meet here."

Fitz smiled, even if it were a little tight around the edges. "Don't worry, Cyrus, I know you would move heaven and earth to keep Olivia and I apart. You're no matchmaker. No apologies needed.

He changed the subject. "My guys were not pleased by the fact that I came here in the first place without prior knowledge and they are going to start having fits in a minute if I keep on standing out here in the open, so again, don't worry about it. It happened, it's done and behold, the earth is still intact. "

He didn't want to discuss Olivia at all so before Cyrus could say anything more on the subject, Fitz thanked him for the invitation and told the other man that he would see him in the office tomorrow.

Cyrus watched the president's sedan pull away, wishing he could believe that it was true. The ground beneath their feet may be solid enough for now, Cyrus was thinking it was only a matter of time before that changed. He wanted to brace himself for the aftershocks - he just didn't know how.

Thankfully by the time Fitz returned to the White House, Mellie had taken herself elsewhere. Right now, the last thing he needed was another bout with her. He was too drained from the rollercoaster emotions of the day to go yet another round with her. More than likely things would have been said that should never be said, and would be resented by the both of them.

He took the time to give Teddy a bath after his outdoor playtime; he even stayed and played for a little while with his son, but for once found himself to restless to stay in the nursery long.

Luckily, the little boy was tired from their morning's adventure; that and the bath made him easy to rock to sleep. In a rocking chair in the nursery that Fitz had had installed for just this purpose, Fitz sat with his youngest son in his arms, breathing in the peaceful scent of little boy and sleepy time, wishing that it could cool his thoughts, wishing it could ease away the jangles in his nerves. Usually it did, but today it failed.

Eventually he lay Teddy down and after a last caress of his son's tiny body, left the room.

As Fitz walked the halls alone, he felt lost; he was torn inside, everything in him being pulled in a million directions all at once. Caught between need, anger and frustration - between hate, desire, duty and love he no longer knew which way to turn.

He questioned himself ruthless as he walked, wondering if he ever really knew what all of it meant. Had he been fool enough to not know what love was after all? Had he been nothing but a foolish older man who had let himself get caught up in a fantasy?

No.

Fitz let his feet lead him to the Oval Office and closed the door behind him.

No. That would make him no better than his father. The man was dead and he needed to let go of him and his hatred and his belittling and the pain he had brought to him once and for all.

He glanced at his desk; Fitz knew that there were some briefs he needed to read and review, but there were always briefs and reports and facts and figures to be attended to - suddenly he decided he would look at them before the day was done but there wasn't anything there that needed his attention at this precise moment.

He needed time to tend to him. He just didn't know if he could.

Responsibility still called to him - it would be a way to turn away from taking a harsh look at himself. If not the reports, he could look at the newsfeeds for news on the hostage situation, take a look at the international intel channels, do his job in other words - but if anything had changed, he would have been notified the moment it had happened.

All these other tasks clamored for a place at the edges of his mind and it would easy to let them in. Almost easier than dealing with what happened between he and Olivia earlier.

No.

Instead, he found himself wandering out into the gardens, walking slowly along the paths to the terraced patio where he and Jocelyn Martin had been working and past them into the cultivated woodland beyond it.

He was angry - he was so angry at her. As hard as he tried to control it, his hands clenched into fists as he imagined her face before him, the pain in her eyes as she took in his words. Why couldn't Olivia understand why his anger was so much more towards her than anyone else?

Was he sad and infuriated by Mellie's actions - by Cyrus'? Of course. But in the end, he was hardly surprised. Hollis? He was just being Hollis.

But Olivia, couldn't she see how her part in this hurt, destroyed him, decimated him more surely and thoroughly than all the rest combined?

Did he have the right to still want her? Did he still want her? Fitz couldn't answer that. He had opened the doors of his soul to her. She had been the only one who had known how he cried for his father - for the man he wished his father could have been, he reminded himself bitterly. He had told her how much he wanted to win this election. And her response was to make a deal with the devils to make it happen.

He hadn't won. He didn't never known that until Verna had told him. And he would never know if the victory would have been truly his or a result of the same backroom politics that were the rule book for his father's life and had become everything he'd hated.

Fitz's soul ached with the knowledge of the betrayal of the country. His soul had gone mad and died a little with the knowledge of it - and yet to reveal it would destroy this country and bring it down in anarchy. His own pain was nothing against that. He was forced into silence, into dishonesty and lies and that made him no better than the others.

All of that, combined with the betrayal of the person who had become the most important person in his life after his children had broken him. The pressure of it had almost driven him to his knees and there was no one who knew that at all; how the inner guilt and pain drove him to work twice as hard after he'd been told, after he'd been shot.

Knowing what she did of him, claiming to love him like she did, how could she could betray him like this in such a fundamental way? How could he love her after that? She betrayed everything he had believed about her. She had destroyed him at his most basic part of him, the very foundation of who he was.

But he still loved her. That unexpected kiss had made that impossible to ignore or to deny any longer.

Fitz had more or less had been walking blindly through the White House grounds, not noticing until he looked up that he had reached that quiet little grove where he and Jocelyn had talked. This time he went into the exquisitely ivy-clad glass-walled structure. A chaise lounge demi-couch took up one side of the interior and he went to it swiftly, sinking down onto one corner, letting his aching head drop into his hands.

How could he love a woman capable of making such a choice? How could he allow himself to be so weak - to be everything his father had said he was?

His father's lies, against who he had always believed himself to be. It was a war that he was finding almost impossible to battle.

He didn't know who he was anymore, let alone what he wanted.

Or even what he needed.

He was lost, so lost. Sometimes at night, he felt broken beyond repair.

He couldn't hate her - because she was the love of his life, even now.

He couldn't love her - because her betrayal had cost him all that he was.

Like a child, he wanted to weep. But he couldn't - he was the leader of the free world.

He couldn't - because there was no time for his personal weakness - not here, not now, not ever.

He couldn't - because this time there were no loving arms waiting to catch him when he fell.

He was alone.


	33. Chapter 33

Jocelyn pulled her car up into the garage, her mind still on her exchange with the First Lady of the United States. It was almost sureal, she was thinking as she got out of her car. What kind of insecurities that woman must have to think that every woman who came into close contact with her husband felt the need to drop panties on him.

She, at least, was a very happily married woman - thank you very much.

Jocelyn walked into the foyer of her Georgetown townhouse, just in time to meet her happily married husband. She smiled ruefully at him. "Work?"

"Work." But that didn't mean he didn't have time for a kiss from his wife. Time for several of them, in fact.

Michael Martin was a power broker in Washington. He was a lobbyist for several business-based concerns in the D.C. Power structure. There were times that Jocelyn didn't know how she felt about lobbyists in politics, but they were a fact. She and her husband had come to an understand at the very beginning concerning the work that they did. There was a Chinese wall outside of their home, so it was rare that they discussed work within it. And, thanks to her prodding, at least he did represent some pro-bono councils that were more involved in grassroot, apolitical and community than the care and feeding of big business profits.

Michael was a former football phenomenon but very few had recognized the fact that he had also studied political science while playing college ball. He'd had a plan for when his playing days were done; in fact, they'd met when he'd was already established in D.C.

She'd been a little leery of him, especially once she'd learned that he was a few years younger - almost four to be exact - than herself. But he hadn't cared; he'd pursued her for almost two years until she'd actually fallen in love with the outspoken man who could not only represent his clients but showed a compassion and concern for those who could not afford his time and influence.

Not for the first time, she wished that he would think about running for public office - he was a political party's poster boy, with good looks overlaid with a smooth nut-brown complexion, with a well-groomed goatee that gave him just enough of a bad-boy wickedness to make female constituents dream and male ones feel a camaraderie. And he had a generous smile that he was shining in her direction even as he sat his briefcase down and took her into his arms.

"I wish duty didn't call." He said as he leaned down to brush his lips against hers.

"I was saying the same thing a few hours ago." she said as she kissed him thoroughly.

"If only I knew how long I would be, I would tell you to hold that thought, woman mine."

"Don't worry, I'll hold it anyway." Jocelyn murmured beneath his lips. "You've got to come home sometime."

"But I've got to go now." Michael said. Reluctantly he loosened his hold on her. 'But, when I get home, I promise to make it up to you."

Jocelyn laughed against his kisses. "Oh, I know you will."

He let her go, but only because he had to. "Why don't you call up your daughter, have lunch and enjoy yourself." he said after one final kiss.

"That is not that bad of an idea." Jocelyn said. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around after all this time. You have the best ideas..."

"I'll remind you of some of them when I get back."

Jocelyn hugged him again. As the door closed behind him, she walked into the her office. After she secured her briefcase in a floor safe beneath her desk, Jocelyn sat back in her chair and called her daughter. It rang several times, and Jocelyn frowned a little in disappointment. There were days her daughter worked crazy hours and maybe this was one of them. She was mentally composing a message for Shireen's voicemail when her daughter picked up.

"Hi momma," Shireen answered the phone, sounding a little out of breath.

"Chere, are you okay?" Jocelyn asked.

"I'm fine - you know me - I was in one room and my phone was in another. Unlike you, I don't live with it fastened permanently to my ear."

It was an long-running joke between them.

"It's for work."

"Yes, momma."

"Considering what you do, you should understand." Jocelyn tried for a scolding tone, which they both knew was fake.

" _Yes_ , momma." Shireen told her in a sing-song voice. "But you didn't call me just to remind me of one of your very bad habits."

"No, I didn't." Jocelyn smiled into the phone. "I was thinking about a late brunch and if you'd like to meet me. How about some shrimp and grits?"

"At your favorite restaurant?"

"You know it."

"Great, I'll meet you at the Eatonville in about an hour - how does that sound?"

"It works; it'll give me time to change and I'll see you then."

Shireen ended the call and put the phone back on its charger on her nightstand. She smiled softly as the man behind her leaned over and a pair of lips trailed a path from her shoulder to her back of her neck.

"So much for that late lunch  _we_  were talking about."

"We were talking?"

"Well, earlier we were - before we were - distracted. But that was my momma, and she wants to have brunch. Our hours are usually so crazy, so when one of us calls with some free time, the other comes running."

"Well, I wouldn't want to interfere with a mother-daughter bonding ritual, so I guess it's time to make myself scarce." he paused. "You were planning to take a shower, weren't you?"

Shireen laughed, knowing where his thoughts were headed. He was right, though- they might as well conserve water and make that a shower for two.

/**/

Shireen was standing outside of Eatonville, waiting for her mother to join her. She finally spotted her car pulling in across the street into a parking space and as usual, when she emerged, Jocelyn was holding her cell phone to her ear. Did that woman never stop working?

She laughed to herself - no more than she did herself. Shireen was grateful to have inherited her mother's strength of will. It had served her well over the years. And if she aged as well as her mother had - she'd be blessed if she looked that good in twenty years.

Jocelyn was looking around as she gathered herself together, juggling her oversized purse - her battle bag, Shireen had deemed it - phone and keys.

Shireen raised her hand and waved it until she caught her mother's attention. Jocelyn waved back and moved to the crosswalk, preparing to cross. She stepped one foot into the crosswalk and then there was a blaring of horns and tires screeching as a car zoomed directly in front of her.

Shireen's heart leapt into her throat. It had all happened so fast that it was too late for her to react until it was all done and the car was already turning off onto a side street and out of sight.

Her body was shaking as she waited until her mother reached her. Her mother held up one hand - incredibly - she hadn't even dropped her phone.

Shireen glared at her until she'd hung up. "Momma!"

Jocelyn did have the grace to look a little guilty. But only a little.

"It was no fault of mine - the light was yellow and the fool was impatient."

"And if he had hit you, would that have made a difference?" Shireen tried not to shout - she and her mother rarely had loud words with one another. "How many times have I told you about you and that phone?"

"A million times," Jocelyn said apologetically. She took her daughter's arm and began to lead her inside the restaurant. "Forgive me, and let us sit down and have a meal together."

Shireen raised her eyes to the ceiling. What else could she do?

They soon found themselves seated at their table. Jocelyn was known here, a simple order and they soon found themselves served a most excellent brunch of shrimp and grits with fresh biscuits and honey on the side. Shireen let the car incident go for the most part, at least until they had finished the better part of their meal.

"I have told you a thousand times to at least get an earpiece." she began.

"You have told me a thousand times about a million other things as well." Jocelyn reminded her. "I have tried them and they do not work for me."

She reached out and patted her daughter's hand. "I am sorry for frightening you." Jocelyn smiled. "And I know how I can make it up to you - you are forever also needling at me to allow you to check my computer security feeds. They are government defined of course-"

Shireen gave her mother the eye. "What's going on, mommy?"

"Nothing - in fact - if you're free, you can come by tonight- before something comes up and changes our plans. Michael is out to work, and if he's home at an decent hour, the three of us can have dinner - and if he isn't - then the two of us can have a lovely evening. How does that sound?"

"Remember..."

Shireen knew what was coming and she said the words along with her mother; after all, she'd been hearing them all of her life.

"Somebody didn't wake up this morning, so let's live today like there's no tomorrow."

And then that was exactly what they did.

For the others who had shared the day, it ended differently.

For Cyrus, the day ended with him in his home office, staring at his phone and wondering if he should make the call that he thought he should, thinking of the brewing storms to come.

For Olivia the day ended with the memory of Fitz's lips upon her own, staring at a phone that lay silent throughout the night. She spent the better part of it standing at her bedroom window, looking for answers in the night that she could not find to questions she dared not ask.

For Fitz, the night was another one spent in the Oval Office, the moon his only companion. It was empty of everything except light and shadows, holding no answers and offering no truths.

Except one. There was only one truth in his heart, however much it pained him to admit it. He still was hopelessly and forever in love with Olivia Carolyn Pope. Could he find it in him to let that love overcome his pain? And even if he could, would it be too late?

Rightfully, she wanted no part of him.

Would she ever let him back into her heart?

Could he ever let her back into his?


	34. Chapter 34

Olivia had done her best to hide her aching heart from her people before she'd retreated to her private office at OPA. It had been hard.

It had been damned near impossible. Too many sleepless nights were finally taking their toll on her; normally she went through her days confident that her emotions were locked tight behind unscalable walls. But for the last few days, she hadn't been too sure about that any more.

That thought made her stop and think. Olivia tried to recall if any of her people had been eyeing her strangely lately. Harrison, yes. But then again, Harrison tended to keep a closer eye on her in ways the others did not. Huck was the same.

Usually very perceptive to all of their moods, for once she couldn't be sure of them at all. That made her uncomfortable and uneasy with herself.

Olivia Pope was not a woman that shared her secrets or her inner thoughts easily. Now she wondered if that distance had come to create a barrier between and her associates. Without trust, they couldn't work together as they did.

And that was just one more issue to lay at the feet of one Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III.

 _No_.

She wasn't going to think about him, she told herself - she wasn't going to let him play her like a yoyo, like a toy upon a shelf. Now he's angry, now he wants her, then he doesn't any more.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

 _No_.

She wasn't the girl who gets gotten at the end of some cheesy flick no matter how she's treated in the second act. So, even if she'd allowed herself to be swept off of her feet in the first with that unexpected kiss, she'll be directing the outcome of the third act. She was bringing down the curtain on their own little personal sideshow. Brava, Ms. Pope.

Right?

The answers to that question danced with mockery behind her mind's eye. Before she could look too deeply into that, she heard a murmur of voices outside her door. Thankful and irritated all at once, she stood and joined her people in the common office space, just as Quinn led Shireen Davis in.

A quick round of introductions were made and soon they were all gathered around the conference table in one position or another. Quinn had sat herself across from Shireen, while Huck as usual, pulled a fade back, leaning against the doorway of his own offices.

Harrison leaned against one chair, with Abby lurking nearby, regarding Shireen with bright-eyed curiosity. She had already stated her interest in meeting a "mini-me" of "super-computer man" Huck.

Shireen was still standing, draped in a charcoal shawl and matching slacks; the only reason Olivia noted her ensemble was because of the unique brooch holding it in one place at her shoulder. It looked very old - ancient in fact - a beautiful piece of polished golden-hued amber bound in intricately woven silver-work.

Olivia wasn't surprised - most people were uncomfortable the first time they visited the OPA offices - not surprisingly since it was some sort of crisis that had brought them to their door to begin with. Their coming here did not mark the most pleasant day of their lives.

To try and put their newest client at ease, Olivia complimented her on the unusual brooch; she was surprised by the expression that crossed Shireen's face. The other woman was not overly pleased by the compliment.

"It's part of the case." she explained as she removed the brooch and set it on the table where they could all see it.

"It looks antique." Harrison said. "Museum quality."

"And expensive." Abby added.

Without being told, Quinn and Abby both fetched cameras and began taking pictures.

"Every so often - always on a Wednesday, but never two in a row - I've been sent some sort of jeweled piece by private courier. No tracing, I checked." Her eyes challenged them all before she continued.

"There's been a hand-bracelet, a few arm bangles and a pair of earrings so far." She reached into her kit and pulled those same pieces out of a compartment in her bag, laying them alongside the first. All of them were old world from their design, designed to delight a woman's eye with their sensuous curves and inlaid precious stone-work. Besides the polished amber, diamonds glinted in exquisitely carved baguettes along the silvered edges and the amber-stones glowed even under office light.

Shireen frowned at them. "I've been instructed to wear a piece on the following Wednesday after I received it."

"And if you don't?" Olivia asked.

"The first time, I refused of course. And the consequences were that a cyber denial-of-service attack was aimed at my mother's husband's law offices. Nothing was deliberately stolen or hacked beyond repair, but it was deliberate. Enough information was left so that I would know that it was deliberate - plus the intrusion packet was set so that the breadcrumb clues left behind insinuated that my mother's terminals might have been a originating point. Or at least they left a strong possibility that they could have been. Whoever did it, they deliberately left that directional packet intact - and that's usually the first thing any grade- hacker will eliminate.

"They wanted you to know what had been done." Quinn said. It wasn't a question.

Shireen nodded. "They wanted me to know not only what had been done, but how throughly they had done it. The message that came after made it clear that it was no coincidence. They could have just as easily gone after my mother - her job has much higher security than his, but..." She stopped as though she were unwilling to go any further.

Olivia had been studying Shireen as she'd been talking; now she spoke up. "We know who your mother is, Shireen. I've had the occasion to meet her myself a few times, but I can't say I know her well. She's a lovely, intelligent woman - and it seems like her daughter has taken after her. Have you told her about what's happening?"

"No - I don't want her involved, either." Shireen said - it was clear from her tone that she meant it. "There's enough on her plate and I don't - won't add to it."

"This cannot be discussed outside of this room. Ever." She paused and looked around the room, taking the time to look each of them in the eye.

"I had brunch with my mother the other day. During the course of the conversation, there were certain things she said - about her time being tied up for the foreseeable future, so she was so glad that we could meet - our schedules are usually opposite of one another's - the bottom line is that I am ninety-nine percent sure that she's involved with the hostage situation on some level. I'm not interfering with that."

"This could be some sort of attack against her and not you, you understand?" Abby pointed out.

Shireen shook her head. "No, I don't think so, this whole thing started before the hostage crisis began.

"I told Harrison this," she said with a nod to him. "At first, it started with flower deliveries. Harmless enough, I thought. It was flattering at first, of course - what woman wouldn't be? But no one ever came forward and it was cute to a little creepy. After a month, the jewelry started coming. Again with no I ignored the gifts until the requests began to come to wear them."

Harrison took up her tale. "This is where things went south. The threats were vague, but they were made. When Shireen refused, the first cyber-attack came. So it's obvious it's someone with mad computer skills."

"So you think it's someone you know?"

Shireen shrugged. "I don't know at this point. That's why I'm here."

"Okay, so if we go with it not involving your mother, what kind of proof would you need to keep from running to Momma Bear?" That was from Abby.

Shireen's eyes shot up in a challenge. "Last time I talked to my mother, she also asked me to do a systems check on her home set-up. It's all very encrypted and very secure."

"Like you would expect for a member of the administration." Huck said quietly. "And you ran your own pi-level diagnostics?"

Shireen turned in her chair and looked at him. "Of course."

"Deep scan?"

"A level delta-one." Shireen raised her chin, just a little. "And I set some additional data lurker watchdogs in place in case of stealth intrusions. They're just SQL-D actuated, but that was best, in my opinion, so as to not to show my hand in them."

Huck considered her words for a moment, then nodded in appreciation.

"Does anyone care to translate any of that?" Abby asked. "Or is it just me that's feeling that all kinds of goodies just got lost in translation?"

"Maybe later." Quinn answered absent-mindedly - her concentration was all on the conversation between Shireen and Huck and she was drinking it all in like a dry sponge in a puddle. She didn't even notice Abby's frown as she rolled her eyes in the other woman's direction.

"What about your own systems?" Huck asked. "Are they secure?"

"I've left everything in place. I thought a fresh pair of eyes could see something I missed."

"Well, I'm sure if you're not up to it, Huck can fix that." Abby said. She frowned as Huck and Shireen shook their heads at the same time. Even Quinn raised an eyebrow. "I guess you'll be strengthening her firewalls or whatever."

"That's the worst thing she could do." Quinn was the first to start explaining, after one quick glance of approval from Huck. "One assumption is that we're dealing with an oer the top suitor. Another assumption we should be looking at is a hacker, a data thief with a specific goal in mind.

"The intruder may want to test out Shireen's capabilities. If she responds with a certain level of defenses suddenly thrown up - if she attacks, which the data thief almost certainly knows she's more than capable of doing, then he learns what her threat response it and can tailor his work to that. Maybe work his way around something that she won't catch at all. All of his moves so far may just be a feint to throw her off of his tracks. The trick is to try and get the attacker to relax and feel smug, secure and superior, then catch them with a runaround program they aren't expecting."

Abby looked disdainfully at Quinn. "And how do you know all that?"

"Because those are the first things I might try, if I were scoping out a possible target." Huck answered for her.

"Okay people," Olivia said, shutting Abby down before she got herself started - she just could not seem to help herself when it came to pretty much anything Quinn said or did.

"If it's an inside job, there's better ways to work it." Huck told the group.

"By all means." Harrison said. "Enlighten us."

Huck did. He beckoned and they all followed him into his offices. The OPA team watched as Huck directed Shireen to one of the chairs facing his main monitors. Quinn perched herself closest and the others found places behind them. A few basic instructions and Shireen was leading them into the heart of her systems, the schematics on the triple monitor set-ups flickering and chasing one another across the screens.

Huck followed, his keystrokes as deft and as sure as her own. In spite of the seriousness of the matter, both of them began to smile a little, as they fell into an easy working synchronicity as she opened up her cyber-space to him. They barely spoke to one another and when they did it was with short cryptic phrases that made no sense to the rest of them.

Olivia noted that only Quinn's face showed any kind of comprehension and her face reflected awe. Everyone else's expression was pure incomprehension.

After a time, they withdrew slowly, leaving no traces of their entry. Just in case.

"Wow." Quinn breathed. Outside of the two computer technicians, she was the only one that had even the slightest clue as to what had just happened.

Shireen and Huck both sat back in their chairs and exchanged a glance and - was that a smile?

Huck swiveled to face the others. "Shireen is probably right - it's an internal probe and it's set deep. Very well done and it will probably prove to be close to being untraceable."

He bared a slight smile, a predator's smile. "Probably- not necessarily. It'll take some time..." he let his voice trail off.

"Data pipeline?" Shireen asked. "High or low octaves?"

"Data pipeline." Huck agreed. "Multiple frequencies, low sonics maybe, multiple variations, triad pronged pipelines."

"I just might agree with that." Shireen said.

Quinn's eyes were wide open as though it were the first day of kindergarten and she was the teacher's pet.

"But you can handle it." Olivia smiled at him as she laid a hand on his shoulder.

Huck looked up at her and nodded. There was no doubt of it in his expression. "I can handle it. It might take some time, though. Days instead of hours."

"It doesn't matter. Do it." she said.

Quinn stayed behind with Huck as the others filed out of his office and reseated themselves around the table.

"So what now?" Olivia asked, looking at each of them for their response.

Abby spoke first. "Well, obviously, you continue with your regular routine - at least until we can manage to close in on this idiot. If he approaches you in the meanwhile, play the victim."

"Excuse me?" Shireen clearly didn't like the sound of that.

"If they pressure you, cry and moan." Abby frowned. "Playing the helpless victim is not the same as  _being_ the helpless victim. You've pretty much done that by not retaliating with a cyber attack - which I get the impression that you'd have no problem unleashing one of epic proportions on your unwanted suitor. But it is what men like this love. Try a moment of false indignation, followed by a bout of tears. They get off on that. Breaking a woman down." Her eyes grew distant for a moment, clearly caught up in some personal memory.

Olivia could see by Shireen Davis' expression that the idea of that did not set well with her. She added her own opinion.

"Abby has a point. We need to keep your harasser at bay - at least long enough to get a handle on who they might be and what exactly do they want. If it's a peer, then we're good. But if they are higher up in the Pentagon's power structure- or even outside of it - it might become a problem. So instead, we - you - play along."

"You said you wanted to keep your mother and her husband out of the situation." Harrison pointed out. "This is the best way to do it - for now."

Olivia gave Shiren Davis a calculating look."Unless you think you can't handle the pressure."

As she'd guessed, Olivia's words were exactly the challenge her client needed.

"I don't want to cause any trouble to anybody - I just want them to take their toys and go home, so if this is what it takes to get things done, then do it." Shireen looked back at Olivia. "I can handle it."

"Good. I thought that you could." Olivia nodded. "I'm sure that you and Huck have some more issues and protocols that the two of you need to work out, so I'll leave you to it."

She looked around the room. 'Everybody else, let's do what needs doing."


	35. Chapter 35

After Shireen leaves and the others have scattered to handle their assignments, Olivia returned to her office, closing the doors silently behind her. The downpour has been growing steadily heavier since the mid-morning, accompanied by soft rumbles of thunder in the distance.

She tried focusing on the newsfeeds in front of her, but the sound of the rain was insistent and unceasing, driving her mind back in time to places she didn't know that she was ready to remember. Finally, she surrendered to the memories, her gaze going as soft and unfocused as the clouds beyond her windows...

**Start flashback...**

"This is going to be one mother of a storm - and she's bringing the kids with her, so the events for this weekend are effectively shut down as of now." That was Cyrus, sounding totally disgruntled - his usual manner when things didn't go his way.

He was frustrated - again, as usual. Just as his candidate's numbers were rising, Mother Nature decided to step in and play a part. He was not appreciative.

For once, Olivia couldn't be sure if she agreed with him or not. At this point, maybe they all could use the break. Fitz's numbers were improving, but not nearly as much as any of them would like and the strain was starting to tell.

"Hopefully, everyone got the four-thirty AM text messages. Thanks to Gov. Grant, we've managed to charter a few private train cars to take off for more populated areas, as well as arrange for your hotel stays."

Applause filled the space as Fitz himself stepped up to the front of the room. Olivia paused from her data research to look up at him, careful to keep her pleasure from showing. Even so, a small smile danced at the corner of her lips, one to match his own.

Among his own people, Fitz looked much more relaxed and less like the successful, rich politician that he was. There was no missing him in a crowd, however; not with the height he had, not with the amazingly still fit body that carried itself so effortlessly with grace and power.

Her eyes couldn't help but linger over the silhouette of his well muscled arms and shoulders and she smiled again to remember the amazing strength and gentleness that was in them when she was wrapped in his arms.

"You all have done such a wonderful job," he was saying. "I'm not going to look at this as a delay in our moving forward, but as a well-earned respite."

Fitz paused and a laughing, wicked look came into his eyes. "I did mention that on each train leaving, one of those chartered cars is a hospitality car -with heavy hors d'oeuvres - didn't I?"

More cheers. Olivia leaned forward unconsciously, know what she would see next.

Fitz and his undeniable, totally honestly-worn charm. His smile burst out over them like a beam of sunshine. He lifted his hand as though it held a glass.

"And...an open bar."

The thunder inside the room came close to rivaling that outside the hall.

"Enjoy yourselves, everybody - and thanks again!" Fitz waved at everybody and began to move away from the center of the space. He grinned and joked with those closest to him and his happiness was evident. He liked these times best, and Olivia knew it. She smiled, happy for him.

Cyrus raised his voice in order to bring the attention back to him. Olivia returned most of her attention back to the figures on her screen.

"So there you have it, little boys and girls. It's early recess time, so make nice and let's all play well together."

Cyrus continued to talk loudly as the crowd began buzzing, calling out the names of team leaders and some other who held prominent duties to the grassroots levels. Break or not, they'd have a few concerns to keep in mind.

Cyrus was finishing up. "We might as well make the best of it. I want everyone to take the weekend off. Recharge. We'll start off fresh on Monday morning - Dad -" referring to himself. "Dad will even let you sleep in so don't show up until eleven, we'll do lunch and then I'll want to see some new ideas."

Olivia started shutting down her workstation while she wondered what she could find to fill the time. Which train car should she pick? There might be a near-by spa retreat. Downtime or not, she knew she would be working either way, but she could do it in luxury and spoil herself a little at the same time. She smiled to herself.

All around her, the hall began to buzz as everyone started to discuss what they were going to do with this unexpected bonus free time.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Olivia looked up in surprise to see Fitz standing over her. He gestured once with a tilt of his head and after snatching up her laptop, she followed him out into the hallway.

Olivia was startled when Fitz took her hand and pulled her behind him, his long strides taking them quickly out of the hall and into the lobby. He tossed her a navy hoody jacket, similar to the one he was wearing.

"What are you doing?" she finally managed to get out as Olivia slipped into the hoody.

Fitz flipped the hood up over her head, taking a moment to let his fingers trail along her cheeks. His eyes dropped to hers and as always, Olivia felt a little flutter in her pulse when he grinned at her a certain way.

Just. Like. That.

"What are  _we_  doing, is the correct question."

Before she could voice that question either, before she could realize what was happening, they were running outside, the rain instantly soaking them. Fitz led her towards a dark gray Lexus parked to the side where no one could really see it. Before she could ask anything, Fitz was fumbling at the door, and handing her down into the passenger's side.

She gave him another look as he slid into the driver's seat, checking the dash over before starting the car and driving smoothly out of the parking lot.

"So what are we doing?" She was surprised at calm her voice sounded, compared to the way her insides were reacting. Her heart was skipping beats, while her lips parted on a little gasp of shock mingled with a tiny pulse of pure delight -  _he was crazy, he wouldn't dare..._

Fitz shot her a mischievous look as they drove away and it was all the answer she needed. "We've been given an unexpected holiday. And I intend to take full advantage of it."

His voice dropped. "And you."

"You can't..." Olivia started. He was crazy. This was crazy. Her heart started hammering in her chest in a mixed beat rhythm of anticipation and shock.

"I'm already doing it." He gave her another glance. "We are cutting ourselves off from the world for just a little while."

Fitz reached over and turned off the radio and let the sounding of the rain fill the space instead."I don't need music. All I need is you, Olivia."

"Cyrus will have a stroke." Olivia breathed.

"Cyrus is being informed probably as we speak, that I've decided I need some well deserved alone down-time and I'll call him when I reach my destination. Remember, no one knows exactly where I'm going to be. There are four different trains put at the campaign's disposal and I could be in any number of hospitality cars right this very minute."

"And just where am I supposed to be?"

"Your name is on the manifest of the first trains out of here. In fact, you're already gone. I suggest sending him an email to alert him to that fact."

"Clothing?"

"Grabbed a bag of yours off of the bus. It's in the back. Not that you'll be needing much."

He said the last in such a matter of fact tone that a laugh bubbled out of Olivia before she could stop it. "So, you've planned this out?"

"Ms. Pope, I'll remind you that I am a military man. A great deal of American tax money went into my training. Such training includes the highly honed ability to evaluate all possibilities and plan accordingly." And there was that slightly naughty little boy smile of his that did all kinds of things to her insides.

"Remind me never to underestimate you, Fitzgerald Grant."

His voice went so soft and low and sexy that it caused the tiny hairs on her skin to rise.

"I intend to do exactly that."

The drive itself was like driving through a dream. The sky was grey, the rain constant. What it did was wrap them in an intimate world all their own. Fitz promised they'd be under a warm dry roof long before them storms swept in.

They arrived at their destination almost two hours later, finally making their way through a grove of old oak and magnolia trees that convinced Olivia that they were arriving at some great estate. Olivia's eyes widened as they drove up a large driveway fronted by a massive gate. Fitz leaned over and retrieved a remote control from the glove compartment. He keyed in a code and the gates swung open.

They continued onto the estate grounds, with Fitz bypassing the main house - a three-storied mansion with soaring columns that looked as though it could have come straight out of Gone With The Wind. He didn't stop until they had traveled some distance behind it, into a secondary smaller grove of trees where a much smaller house had been built.

He pulled the car up before a a deep spacious front porch before shutting it off and turning to her stop, then turned to face Olivia. "It's nice to have friends. Especially friends who are out of the country."

Olivia quirked a smile at him. "I guess so. But would you care to explain how you managed all of this?"

Fitz slid one hand along her jaw, drawing her face to his. "Later." he murmured, just before his mouth claimed hers in a long, slow kiss.

She remembered how she had shivered - how she had always shivered at the little sigh of longing that would escape his lips just before he kissed her. She would never forget the sound of the rain as it intensified around them, washing the world away.

For this brief moment in time, Olivia allowed herself the fantasy. They both had. The fantasy that this was their normal, that they didn't live their existence in stolen moments and after-midnight-only kisses.

The fantasy that the house they ran into soaked to the skin was theirs together. The bedroom that he scooped her up and carried her to was theirs to share openly. As was the bed where he gently peeled the wet clothing inch by inch from her body, slowly following the paths of raindrops with his hands, his lips, his tongue...

So heart-stopingly slow that time ceased to exist, all she knew was the heavy waves of his hair tangled in her fingers, her body arching under his touch while she dissolved deep into a bliss that she'd never known before and one she shared with him.

Only with him.

They drifted into sleep with arms and limbs wrapped around one another, awoke and showered together, went down to the kitchen together and fixed an easy meal of burgers and fries. They curled up on the couch on the den, watched old movies, and argued the merits of old school filmology against the new, and then they made love the whole night through, until the first pearly strands of dawn struggled to be seen against the clouds.

Not a single word was spoken about anything about the world that lay waiting for them beyond the storm. There was only them and the rain...

**End Flashback...**

Her thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing. "Olivia Pope."

"I certainly hope so."

"Jake." in spite of herself, Olivia felt herself smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing at the moment - ask me again in a few days."

"So you called me - why?"

"Would you believe me if I said it was just to say hello?"

"Hello, Jake."

"Hello, Olivia. I did lie just now."

He hardly sounded repentant about it. Olivia smiled to herself, glad at the distraction. The last thing she needed to do was dwell on memories. She smiled again into the phone but said nothing, waiting for him.

A small silence stretched out between them

"Ok, you twisted my arm. Would you believe me if I told you that I can't wait to see you for our non-date on Friday?"

"Maybe." Olivia sat back in her chair, ready to let him take her mind from her other thoughts. "Convince me."

"No way." He laughed. "I'm saving all of my skills for when I see you."

"And I suppose this is supposed to whet my curiosity." Olivia fell into his easy banter as she laughed with him.

"Tell me that I didn't. Beauty and brains - tell me you don't love a good mystery - and you wonder why I'm looking forward to Friday."

Olivia allowed herself a small laugh, surprised at how good it felt. "As charming as this all is, I do have some work I have to get to. So if you were calling to confirm our - date - consider that handled."

"Handled. I like the sound of that. Consider the thought reciprocated."

Oh no, he did  _not_ just try and go there. "Jake..."

He laughed again; it was a pleasant sound in her ear. "I'll see you, Friday at seven, Ms. Pope."

"I'll see you, then Captain Ballard." She hung up, feeling a little better about facing the rest of the day.

Although there was no one to see, Jake Ballard was looking very satisfied with himself as well.


	36. Chapter 36

 Jake was still smiling to himself as he walked out of his office. He turned down a few corridors and headed to an inner bank of elevators. He pressed the button for the middle elevator. When it arrived, he pressed a button to the sub-basement levels.

At B2, it halted. Jake pulled out a key from his wallet and inserted it into an almost unnoticeable lock that had been patterned to blend in with the scrollwork of the button panel. He turned the key and pressed B2 again.

When the doors slid apart, he stepped forward into the cool white glow of R&D Lab D112. He presented his credentials to the guard, signed himself in and went in through the frosted bullet-proofed glass doors.

"Heads up, people, the herder is on deck!" Those closest to him made a very bad attempt at coming to attention - not that it was necessary; they were not military.

Far from it, in fact.

Jake shook his head and kept going. Herding cats. Geeks with attitudes. Jake sighed and began his mid-week walk-through, handing out memos and information as he went.

"There will be a briefing at 0930 tomorrow. That means morning people. It is not open for interpretation, negotiation..." the chorus of voices that were just starting up, died down just as quickly. "It is mandatory. The Senate Intelligence Committee wants a face-to face with some of its best and brightest. End of discussion."

"Edwards," this was directed to the tall skinny black-haired gentleman who was concentrating very diligently on his own array of monitors and keyboards.

"Edwards, stop datum pinging the MIT satellite group. It's interfering with their calculations and projections and they don't like it."

"Wusses." He never even turned his head. "I'd bet they don't even know it's me. If they would calibrate the Y-sensors correctly, the datum ping would have no effect. But will they listen to me - no."

Jake stopped behind him. "You know it's you and  _I_ know it's you. I've covered your ass twice now. Third time, and you're in time-out. We could use some new faces on the lecturing circuit, you know."

Edwards swiveled in his chair and faced Jake. "I'd love the chance to molding young minds." he said with a smile of purely false yet angelic delight on his face.

"Think Dr. Wizard and middle-schoolers."

Edwards lost the smile while the others laughed. Jake just gave him a meaningful glance; Edwards could be a thorny pain in the ass. It was all part of his rebel image.

Jake continued on, taking and giving individual memos, reminders and requisitions. Eventually, he found himself close to the bottom of his tasks list. "Where's Davis?" he asked of no one in particular.

"The Cooler." came the answer.

The cooler, as it was called, was part of the central computer system; a partition off the grid diverted for 112's sole usage More highly regarded than any other piece of computing power in the lab, it was built inside its own interior section.

The temperature was kept much colder than the rest of the lad, because of the amount of sheer computing power that was drawn into it. Two women in long lab jackets were in there now, standing before a ceiling high wall of lights dials, and other techy looking paraphernalia that Jake knew he had no hopes of understanding. checking and double checking components as they were being changed out, tested and re-calibrated.

"Ladies." Jake said with genuine pleasure. The older of the two turned to him with a terse smile.

"It's that time again." Charlotte Coburn said. She was the senior analyst as well as Team Leader. "We're a little busy."

Shireen Davis returned his greetings with a brief smile and returned to her tablet.

"When are you not, Lady Charlotte?" Jake addressed her by her nickname. She was a rubenesque woman, with golden bronze hair streaking silvered just a touch at the temples and vivid green eyes.

"Sir Jacob." she replied. "What nonsense have you brought before me today?"

Jake quickly moved to fill her in on the mid-week tasks, reminding them both of the scheduled meeting. Charlotte was not amused.

"I don't have time for it." she said. Before Jake could say anything, she turned to Shireen. "I have a schematic report to finish up that the SecDef needs yesterday; you'll have to make my apologies."

"She no can do." Jake said. He handed Shireen a manila envelope. "Shireen is on vetting status as of 0900 this morning."

This automatically dropped Shireen from high-active status to mid-level. Transmitting notes, electronic or otherwise were restricted, as was her access to the Cooler.

"That's not usual for you to take vetting time." Charlotte said to Shireen.

Jake said nothing; he knew that Charlotte considered Shireen her right hand, and was generally quick to be annoyed when the opposite proved true. Shireen, on the other hand, had no problem in general in acting as Charlotte's personal assistant - they worked well together and Charlotte was brilliant and an acknowledge master in her field - but she did kick up and show her independence every once in awhile.

Both highly intelligent and strong willed women, occasionally, they challenged one another but it rarely went to def-con levels. When it did, Jake put on his liaison hat and dropped the threat levels as quickly and as best he could.

Shireen answered with a shrug. She looked tired, Jake thought to himself. Had for a little while now. Maybe she just needs some rest.

"If you like, I'll see if I can get the time of the meeting pushed back some."

Charlotte looked at him. "By all means, use some of that infamous charm and see if you can. I've got a bank of computer runs scheduled and they need to be monitored..."

"And you have a whole team at your disposal." Jake reminded her.

She gave him a semi-glacial stare before she stalked off.

Jake stood there and watched her move stiffly away from them. "Is there anything in particular that's got her undies in a twist?"

"Not that I know of." Shireen said. "She's been like that all week."

"My sympathies." Jake said. He looked a little closer. "How about yourself?"

It seemed to Jake that she hesitated just the tiniest bit before meeting his eyes. "I'm doing all right - I mean, other than a little trouble sleeping lately."

"You sure? I mean, it's Wednesday, it's hump day and you're usually a little brighter than this."

"Hence, the reason for requesting vet status."

Something made him want to probe a little deeper. "I see your vet project is for Pope and Associates - how did that come about again?"

She'd already told him about how they'd met at the Corcoran gallery, but she told it again, patiently. Just as in their first go-round, Jake couldn't find anything out of the ordinary about the story, but something was setting off tiny alarm bells in the back of his mind.

He'd run a file on OPA of course. He'd run a second one after meeting Olivia Pope for himself. It was said she was a true power-broker; her firm was a popular firm among the D.C. Elite but it was hard to pinpoint just exactly what it was they did. They did have an extensive client base and all of them were very rich, very powerful and very influential on the D.C. Circuits, from politics, lobbyists and businesses.

"It's a security pipeline issue. They have a guy..."

Jake remembered Olivia's smile as she had admitted the same.

"..But there's always something new on the horizon. New tricks to learn, that sort of thing. Less pressure, more - fun."

Jake wanted to lighten the moment and give Shireen a chance to smile. "You want fun? Why not come over to my place and run some diagnostics on my equipment?"

"Edwards installed your network - he'd take it as a personal insult if I did."

"But you would be so much more pleasurable to work with than that conceited idiot. Just the view alone would be an improvement."

There, he'd succeeded. Shireen smiled at him, even if it were a little wicked.

"I'm sure you would think so. Let me guess, it would be even better if I wore a french maid outfit while I worked?"

"You said it, I didn't it." He bent his head to hers. "Are you saying you  _have_  a french maid outfit?"

"That's for me to know..." Shireen said with a laugh. "Now let me get back to work and finish up the rest of M'Lady's stats runs. I'd like to make it out of the Cooler alive."

At least he'd left her laughing; after he'd left the lab, Jake found himself musing on the exchange. Something was off there, he was sure of it without knowing why. Jake couldn't argue with her on her reasons why - and if she didn't want to discuss it further there was nothing he could do - for the moment, at least.

Maybe he'd just keep a closer eye on her for awhile - just to make sure she was as all right as she was claiming to be.

Maybe he should do the same for Olivia Pope as well.

The rest of Jake's day was filled with meetings and reviews and what seemed like endless reams of reports. His last duty of the night was to report to Fitz over in the Oval Office.

* * *

 

This time he accepted the scotch that Fitz offered him gratefully.

"Not that the weekend means what it used to be, but Happy Wednesday." Fitz said as he sat back on one of the couches.

Jake took the opposite one before raising his glass and taking a long swallow. They sat in a comfortable silence for a time. He was still thinking about Shireen and her association with Olivia Pope and whether or not he should say anything about it.

"Jake?"

He started, not realizing Fitz had already said his name twice. He looked up guiltily at his friend.

"I'm sorry, sir - my mind was still on work, I guess."

Fitz smiled at him with understanding. "And with all that's on your plate, I only added to it. I'm sorry. And I thought we talked about the sir bit."

Jake shook his head. "We've already been over this - Fitz. It's no problem. I mean that. Olivia Pope is not an extrovert. She stays home most of the time when she's not working. She works. A lot. There's something about her I can't quite pinpoint yet -" his voice trailed off.

Fitz leaned forward. "Like what?"

Jake shook his head. "I'm not sure. She - doesn't seem to be - happy. She fills her hours with work, so much so that she should be exhausted with the hours she keeps, but she doesn't sleep well at night. Spends a lot of time staring out of her bedroom window."

It wasn't that she just was not happy, she was sad, Jake thought. He'd already shared his thoughts on that with the president - Fitz. It hadn't changed in the last few weeks. That was it, that was what had been troubling his inner alarms.

Olivia was sad and lonely. And as well as he knew Shireen - she was acting pretty much the same. Something nagged at him that he couldn't pinpoint, but he knew it was there. Women were complicated creatures and now he had two of them sending his inner senses into a heightened alert.

He didn't know whether or not he should share his opinion with Fitz or not. It wasn't a very professional or rational reaction he was having and he knew it. But then again, that's what made him so good at his various jobs, the instinct to go where logic didn't necessarily follow. The questions were valid but only in his mind, but he had nothing to base them on just yet.

Jake decided to keep it all to himself, for now.

Decision made, he looked up to see the thoughtful look on Fitz's face. He wondered what the other man was thinking, and not for the first time wondered what Olivia Pope had done to require watching by the president.

His gaze was caught by Fitz.

"And now you're wondering why am I keeping tabs on her?" Fitz guessed correctly.

His eyes shifted, became unreadable. "You don't know her; all you know are pictures and files on her. Olivia has been both an ally to this office as well as an adversary. Who she knows and associates with is an ongoing concern to this administration out of that necessity." he paused. "There's also a matter of concern for her health and well-being."

That explained a lot. No longer employed by the White House in any official capacity, the president was keeping an eye on her for safety concerns. Jake felt an honesty in that deduction that made it real.

Jake didn't like politics, steered as far away as he could of them, but they were a given factor in any decisions made in D.C. He had to take that into consideration as well.

But this was Fitzgerald Grant, he told himself. A man he had come to know long before the reality of the Oval Office and he owed him not only his loyalty but his life.

He held up a hand. "I'm not asking and I don't need any explanations from you, Fitz. If you decide this op is necessary, than it is. No questions asked."

Even though there were a million of those starting to buzz around in his head.


	37. Chapter 37

Fitz was in limbo. Caught between unacceptable choices on every side.

And the pressures only continued to mount every day.

He listened to Jake's brief report with less than his full attention. It was unfair, he knew it, but his mind was caught up on so many things that he just couldn't help himself.

After a moment, Jake obviously noticed.

"Is there any thing else you need to talk about?" he asked, the concern on his face genuine.

FItz shook his head almost helplessly. What could he tell his old friend? That his Chief of Staff was a ruthless son of a bitch that would do literally anything to get him into office and to keep him there? That he no longer trusted Cyrus Beene's motives? How could he even begin to explain the reasons why?

That his wife, the grand, genteel, well bred DAR - Daughter of the American Revolution no less - was more a political asset than a comfort - and had been almost from the very start of their marriage? That bargains were struck between other people than themselves and that had been the foundation and the glue that stuck them one with another.

That Olivia Pope's entrance into his life had been a gane-changer, had jolted his senses so badly that he'd tried to fire her after the first time he'd looked into her eyes.

That his former campaign fixer and White House Communications Director had impacted his life with all the force of a nuclear explosion, had somehow become the love of his life between one breath and the next, but had betrayed him in the end for reasons he still couldn't understand?

Right.

Explain that, Mr. President.

"I mean it, Fitz. I know you can't talk high-level classified policy or anything like that with me - but that's not what's bothering you, is it?"

Fitz still didn't answer him. He couldn't.

He knew on some level, that what he was doing was wrong. But he felt driven to it. With all that he'd lost, with all of the anger -the rage - the soul-destroying hurt and pain that he'd been forced to live with bottled up inside of him, he told himself that he was justified in in it all.

Olivia had more than earned it - she had betrayed him with Defiance - not the other way around. He hadn't betrayed her. He'd done nothing but love her, trust her - was it his fault that his trust had been broken?

It was hers, all hers.

But after what had happened between them in Cyrus' kitchen, well he had to admit to himself, that that was not his main motive any more - if it had ever truly been so.

In some way, it was his way to stay connected to her. The only tie left between them. There was the truth if only he would admit to it; he could see her, he could hear her, even if he couldn't be with her any more.

It hadn't had the intended effect. Seeing her with Eddison filled him with a jealous rage that he hadn't even known he was capable of. He remembered the vicious shock that had seared through him as he forced himself to look at picture after picture of them together. Her smiling up at him, face soft with emotions. Her eyes as she looked at another man that wasn't him.

And then there was his face. Eddison Davis. There was no mistaking the desire in his eyes. His arms around her. His lips on hers. The rage that poured into him set his entire body to shaking.

Coming to the realization that they had ended things had been a savage joy. Even the news that she was alone too much, sad too often, had sent mixed emotions through him that he had been unable to face for too long a time.

"It's everything." Fitz said at last. "Everything and nothing."

He stood up, stretching his powerful body, taking a moment in just feeling the stretch and play of toned muscles. Just feeling like his old self - his better self - for a moment.

Where was that man? he wondered to himself.

He mused the answer to that out loud. "You know, for all that you think you prepare yourself for the White House, you really can't. You just can't. Things start to change when you first start campaigning, you know."

Fitz walked over to the side table to pour himself another drink. "Once you get to the point where you become a viable contender, the change starts. People start to change in how they see you, in how they act towards you - they can see the difference. It's power - and that power is intoxicating. So much so that you get a little tipsy with it."

He smiled grimly, lifting his glass in an ironic toast. "It starts off as just little sips. And then - bam - you're in the primaries. The odds for you go up and they go down - but they are there. You are wheeling and dealing with the princes of this world, knowing that it's a rare thing to be acknowledged and accepted as their equal."

Jake didn't move, didn't want to break the tableau, realizing suddenly how badly the other man needed to let this out. Has he had anyone to talk - really talk to - about this?

Where was his wife? Jake wanted to ask; but at the same time, realized he couldn't. And that the fact that he couldn't explained a lot.

And Fitz continued to talk.

"Then you're not their equal - you're more than their equal - they themselves of their own free will put you on that pedestal and the feeling is - glorious."

He stopped to take a long deep swallow. "Winning becomes everything. You can do no wrong - it's your destiny lying before you and everything - everything - that comes your way does because It. Is. Meant. To. Be."

Fitz pronounced those last few words with extra intensity. "Destiny. You take your destiny in your hands, you ride that wild wave and it sweeps you into - this." he raised one hand and gestured around the Oval Office.

"And once you're here, everything changes. It has to, or else the job, the pressures will break you. You're privy to all the dirty little secrets and the back-alley machinations of the world and how it really works. And because you're one of the chosen few - because the majority - the same We The People who put you here really don't understand how the world really works - and that's the part of job that's never explained to you until you're here. That it's your job to protect and shield them from it all - it isolates you away from pretty much everything you've ever known."

"Fitz." Jake shook his head helplessly. He didn't know what to say - if there were anything he could say at all.

The smile Fitz turned on him was a pale imitation of his true feelings, an ill-fitting mask of the more genuine smiles that they've shared in the past. "So many agendas at play, so that soon you're seeing everyone in a different light, because now you can see where this one is seeking power, another is seeking wealth, influence, profit at any cost. The seven sins in full effect. There are no black and white issues anymore - everything is ever-shifting shades of greys."

He walked over the the presidential seal woven into the carpet. Fitz looked down at it for a long moment before he spoke again.

"Those ambitions, those lusts are a great foundation for betrayal, you know. And knowing that some will betray any ideal, break any vow, exploit any and every loophole they can to get it. And me? I'm the Wizard behind the curtain; I'm Mom and Dad on Christmas Eve putting together all the toys to be found on Christmas morning. I get to protect the American people from the hypocrisy and rottenness of it all."

He turned to look at Jake. "And it's all part of the job description. But you don't know it until you take the throne."

Jake stood up and came to stand before Fitz, looking at him with a new understanding. He thought he might even feel a little bit of his pain. "It changes you in ways that no one else would ever believe possible."

"Sometimes, you can't even believe it yourself." Fitz said, looking him square in the eye as he said the words.

For all the alcohol that his friend had consumed, Jake could see that it had barely touched him. Was he sober? Not quite. But was he anywhere as drunk as he ought to be? Not even close. Fitz had too much of an iron will - his body and mind simply wouldn't allow it.

This time it was Jake who reached for the decanter. He filled both of their glasses.

"Mr. President." The two words held all the compassion, understanding, awareness and respect that Jake could put into it.

Two old friends touched their glasses together and drank, their old camaraderie restored. It was almost like old times.

Almost.


	38. Chapter 38

"You've been in a strange mood all evening."Olivia prodded Jake. "Should I be disappointed or is just a side of you I'm seeing for the first time?" Her tone was part-playful, but eyes were thoughtful and observant.

Jake brought himself back from his thoughts. "Sorry." he told her. "I admit it - my mind was somewhere else."

Olivia's expression made it clear that that was not going to be enough of an explanation.

Jake paused. "I was just with a friend the other day that needed a friendly ear to listen. He's not the type to do something like that and it surprised me. There were things he had to say that needed to have a friend there to hear."

It was finally the night of their long awaited Friday evening non-date and they were a part of a wine-tasting tour group of the wine-shop where they had met.

Olivia and Jake were standing among the edges of the group, so they could chat quietly and not disturb the others while the sommelier presented his mini-lectures. Olivia had pointed out the information that was relevant to a new-comer like himself and added her own opinion when she thought it necessary.

She really was quite knowledgable about her wines. Jake had been even more impressed than he was the first night they'd met.

And obviously, so was she. Olivia was smiling at him. "Well, instead of disappointment, color me maybe just a little impressed. You were there for a friend."

Jake forced a smile. "One of my many talents. I did tell you we'd be good friends. This sense of empathy too can be yours - as part of the Jake Ballard Experience."

"That you did, Jake Ballard." she said. "I might even have to admit that you might have been right."

"Progress." Jake said with satisfaction and a smile.

He couldn't help it - it was a part of his training - but the more he was finding out about her, the more he was finding Olivia Pope more than interesting. She was giving away far more than she realized.

But he was trained to see what others couldn't.

A lot of it was in her eyes. Bold, confident - beautiful. But there was a shadow behind them. Olivia Pope was a woman who carried a lot of secrets in that gorgeous head of hers - and some of them were personal.

And she was smart. Brilliant, quick on her feet. For every probe and question he threw her way - and he was careful to cloak them in carefully crafted words - she lobbied them right back at him. She played the game as well as he, giving as good as she got. The both of them were enjoying the verbal sparring, not exactly keeping score, but relishing every point scored and every hit returned with style.

It was exhilarating.

He couldn't wait until the next time.

* * *

It was a relief not to have to think about anything other than being in the moment, Olivia was thinking. She accepted the tiny crystal goblet from the last tray going around the room.

The sommelier was speaking as appreciative murmurs went around the room.

"This is the vintage that we had been waiting for and the reason for our postponement. As I can tell - and you can taste - it was well worth the wait.

Olivia sipped at the drink. It was amazingly good. Notes of a rich port swirled on her tongue and the tastes of a rich dark chocolate was satisfying without being overly sweet.

She glanced at Jake - he seemed to be enjoying it too. He was trying to taste the wine in the way the sommelier had instructed. Then he caught her watching him and downed the rest of it.

He licked his lips and laughed.

"I promise to practice that technique. But that was just too delicious to let it just sit on my tongue." he said.

Olivia refused to rise to his bait. "It takes time and I promise not to hold it against you."

He simply cocked his head at her, letting his obvious silence state the obvious remark he wanted to make. He'd much rather hold something other than his beginner's expertise against him.

"You are - shameless." Olivia said.

"Observant." he corrected her. "And patient."

"Oh, how so?"

"This is not a date - this is a non-date - this is two acquaintances meeting after work to indulge in a purely social setting. I do not make my more carnal wishes known on anything less than a true date. It lends a certain sense of mystery to the non-date."

Olivia shook her head. She couldn't say that he was wrong. He was handsome, he was charming, he made her laugh. The only issue was that he just wasn't Fitz.

The group was breaking up around them and they spent the next few minutes chatting with the other people.

Olivia used the time to study him. He as smart - but that was a given, considering his job. He'd thrown several questions her way, trying to learn more about her than someone might do on a first-time casual not-a-date date but she supposed that was force of habit. He worked in intel, what else could she expect?

But this wasn't her first time at the rodeo, either. Whatever he tossed her way, no matter how innocently he might phrase it, she had a smooth counter for it and tossed it right back across the net. She knew how to throw a subtle question wrapped in confetti too.

So he caught her questions, she caught his and they both had an enjoyable time knocking them aside.

They'd learned that much about each other, at least.

In the end, they were on line with their purchases. Jake had insisted on four bottles of the chocolate wine, insisting that she take home two of them.

"And what are you going to do with yours?" she asked.

"Probably finish one off sometime this weekend - but the other one, I'm going to save."

"Save for what?" Olivia asked even though she could read the answer in his eyes.

Another cryptic answer. "I haven't quite decided yet. I figure I'll know in the moment when the time comes."

"Hm. I didn't take you for the spontaneous type - what with you being a naval officer and such." Olivia said with a small grin.

"Never estimate a naval officer, ma'am." Jake said. "We're full of unexpected surprises - part of the training." He gave her a grin as he turned to the cashier to ring up his purchases.

Wasn't that a truth? Olivia asked and answered herself. She knew the answer all too well.

Luckily for her, before her mind could wander too far down that path, Jake was done with his transactions and was handing her a handled bag with her portion of the wines.

They moved out of the way of the other customers.

"Well." Jake said. "I guess this is the point where I walk you to your car."

Olivia nodded. "That would be the next step." she could tell from the look in his eyes that he would rather that this was not the end of the evening, but resigned to the fact. He wouldn't push it.

She was grateful. Mainly because she almost felt the same.

They walked outside into the cool night. The The street lights glowed like stars, turning night into a something other. They didn't bother talking, each of them content to relax in the company of the other.

It was a comfortable silence, one that lasted until they reached her car.

He waited until she had deposited the bottles into her car.

"I'm patient." he told her.

"That's always a useful trait." she answered carefully.

He noted her care and grinned. "And determined."

"I think I've noticed that."

"So, if I call you for the purposes of establishing a genuine date - you wouldn't be adverse to the idea."

"I'm patient." she told him. "We'll see."

"I'll take that as 'not a no' and retreat with my flag still held high."

The both of them laughed together and it was a thing of delight in the moment.

"Good night, Jake. I did have a very enjoyable evening."

"Good night, Olivia. I can very definitely say the same."

She drove off into the night with a smile on her face that lasted long after she arrived home.

Maybe a little bit of normal was just what she had needed.


	39. Chapter 39

Her good mood continued throughout the rest of her evening. She keeps her mind carefully only on the events of the day, how good it felt to laugh again, to trade words and banter so easily. To have a few moments where her past didn't matter and guilt wasn't and regrets hanging on every word. She'd needed it, even if she hadn't known it.

Olivia decided on a whim to open one of the bottles she's brought home. Her mind wanders and for once she lets it go, releases the reins and let it run free.

A meadow full of memories lie before her and before she can think about, before she can weigh the consequences, she is running through it.

She's alone, she is surrounded by the walls that are the secrets of her life. For once they are off in the far distances of her mind. It doesn't matter. Towering as high as the sky and as thick as her skin, she is safe here.

She spends time here less and less. Leaving is heart-ache. Leaving is pain.

She lets herself leave easy. It helps, this gentle upwards drifting of the mind. It's like resurfacing from the ocean depths. There's a buoyancy of spirit, a brief sensation of the mending of numberless tiny cracks like tiny bubbles against her senses. They prickle sometimes, like pins and needles, painful sometimes, tiny fires like rivulets pouring though her mind. But they continue, leave her, float past her, spiraling upward into nothingness...

Olivia opened her eyes.

The phone rang. The sound causes her to catch her breath. It might not be him. It isn't  _that_  late.

It might be him. Which choice was the worst one?

"Hello."

"Hello, Olivia."

It's Jake and she's surprised to find that it's not necessarily a bad thing that it's him. With Jake she can easily slip her masks back into place, settling them in place with a smoothness born of long, long familiarity. It slides over her with the warmth and feel of a an old familiar robe.

With him, she can smile, even if she doesn't really mean it. That's not exactly true; a part of her does, but it's just a chink in her armor, she tells herself. Jake is a part of that other her - the her the world sees. The mover. The shaker. The fixer.

But him - there's no past with him, she sees no future with him - at least she doesn't have to think about one. There's just the present; the here and now of him. And that's more than enough.

So her lips curl into a smile.

His voice is pleasant enough, his words pleasant enough. She's swallowing her wine and it's blurring the edges and so she's pleasant. Her words are pleasant enough.

"Hello, Jake." She can feel him smiling on the other end of the line.

"You're not surprised to hear from me so soon?"

She thought about that for a moment; maybe she should be - but she wasn't quite settled into her other self. "Not really." the words were the truth.

"You're not annoyed to be hearing from me so soon?"

She thought about that and could find no reason to be so... "No."

"Well, I'll be the only one to be surprised." he said. "And we can both be not annoyed at me."

He has a favor to ask. He came home and found a couriered request waiting for him. More or less a command, but put in the manner of a request. His immediate superior was bowing out of some White House function and had appointed him to the guest list in his place. Would she do him the great favor of being his partner?

"In certain high-ranking naval circles, it is strongly suggested that you do not arrive for these functions alone." he explained. She, of course, knowing White House protocol for these functions, knows he's telling the truth. Senior officers in general do not want younger officers than themselves offering themselves up as unintentional - mostly - eye candy.

He pauses and she can sense the wheels in his head spinning, marshaling his arguments. He won't push, but he will do his best to persuade - she's learned this much about him.

"Think of it as another non-date. And this time, you get to look even more gorgeous and torture me at the same time."

"You think I'd take pleasure in torturing you?"

"What woman worthy of the name wouldn't jump at the chance? Legal torture - that I'm asking for."

She had to laugh at that. She tells him she will think about it and call him in the morning.

She hangs up then. Yes, she'll call him in the morning. Because she will have to make some decisions. About her here and now and about her past. By saying yes to him, she'll be bringing the two together.

By saying yes to  _him_ , she will be bringing the two of them together.

Out of nowhere, the words came, unbidden.

_"Wait for me, Olivia."_

She pours herself another glass of wine.

* * *

Jake smiled at the wall of monitors sitting before him. He was oddly pleased that he had managed to put a smile on her face. He pressed a button on the remote control and sat back, studying her image.

"Good night, Olivia. Sleep well."

He turned the monitor off.

* * *

_"Wait for me, Olivia."_

Out of nowhere, the words come, unbidden.

He's staring out of the windows into the night, seeing nothing. The Oval Office is a refuge in the late night hours. It's a comfortable silence, able to hold uncomfortable thoughts.

And he is full of them tonight.

He isn't drinking tonight. It's not that he doesn't want to. It's become an old familiar, trusted friend, able to hold all the secrets in the world. He enjoys its company.

It's just that - he doesn't want to.

That surprises him, but he doesn't fight it. There's an unreal clarity in his mind tonight; every thought seems to be outlined in light. Every beat of his heart is amplified, reminding him that he is alive. There's a clarity to the shadows in the room and in his mind.

The doctors had told him this might happen; it was not uncommon for those who came close to death. Every now and then, life would come rushing back in on them, like a giant wave.

He felt like he was riding one now. Fitz loved swimming in the ocean, has since he was a boy and even more so as a man; feeling the pull of a power greater than his own, owning the sensation and becoming one with it.

If he closed his eyes, he could let it in. The swirling turbulence was all around him, a thousand tiny sub-currents spiraling against his senses. And it strengthened him. It flooded into a thousand tiny cracks and crevices and he let it. Sometimes it's too much; sometimes he isn't ready to face it.

And in a very rare sometimes, like now, he can open up a crack and let it in for a very little while.

He feels his head tilt backwards onto aching shoulders. He flexed them slowly, feeling the tension in them. He exhales slowly, letting himself slide into the waves.

The worries he could do nothing more about tonight - he let them drift downward of their own weight. He felt so many others, all waiting their turn to come at him. All trying to press in on him. But the main current that held him, held some small amount of healing held them at bay; slow and deep and insistent, it spun it's own web around him.

There were answers in it; some he were even finally willing to acknowledge. Some he were not ready for. But tonight, he could forgive himself for even that.

There was so much to be forgiven for.

He will face it when he can. Right now, he needs to find a way to deal with his life day by day, hour by hour, breath by breath.

Alone, and out of sync.

And he will. Just as he has been doing. Walking each lonely step by step of the way. In the moment, he doesn't care - he surrenders all sense of thought to it. All he wanted was peace.

All he wanted was...

"Fitzgerald."

And the world came back into existence.

Fitz turned wearily to watch Mellie close the door behind her and walk towards him. Angels in heaven, what is it now? He may no longer know what he wants in the end, but he knows for now - right now - he knows he wants peace not war. There was war enough beyond that door as it was.

So he says nothing.

"I just wanted to know what your sleeping arrangements were going to be tonight." Her voice is brittle, but careful.

He looks her in the eye, sees the hardness in them - but something else, too. He doesn't recognize it.

Some of the fight seems to go out of her even as he watches. "I - I just wanted to know."

Now she's looking at him; her gaze sharpens a bit as though she's seeing something new in him as well. Her gaze flickers to the end table that usually held his scotch. Eyes widen slightly as she measures it and knows it hasn't been touched tonight.

He turns away from her. Why does she feel the need to ask him such a question? They haven't intimate since Teddy was conceived. They rarely even shared the same bed anymore - more often than not, he's preferred sleeping in the adjacent nursery - and that was more for the benefit of the staff than anything else.

"I thought it might help if you slept with your wife tonight. Fitz. Seeing how we have a State reception coming up where we will be back in our expected roles of the devoted presidential couple. Think of it as a rehearsal on how to behave when you're next to your wife."

"All right, Mellie."

"We will be side by side for hours at this event." she goes on, determinedly. "And I need to know that I will not be sitting and standing and dancing with a man whose body language screams that he doesn't want to be near me."

"All  _right_ , Mellie." he tells her. He gets her point, he really does. And he'll give it to her.

After all, none of them had signed up for this rollercoaster. Not even Mellie. If he had to slip on the mask a little earlier than he'd planned, so be it.

Fitz closed his eyes until he felt her presence leave. He was suddenly tired - so very tired. And yet he knew that another sleepless night lay ahead.


	40. Chapter 40

Jake hung up the phone, an odd expression playing over his face. He was pretty sure that Olivia Pope would say yes in the morning. From the look on her face, he was pretty sure of it.

And that wasn't in his mind's eye. A series of monitor screens were on the wall opposite him and all of them were focused on a different area of Olivia's apartment. If he felt any qualms about watching a woman, he pushed them away.

He was just following orders. He was still following orders.

Olivia Pope had gotten herself declared a person of interest by the president of these United States. That was enough to set his inner intel senses ringing. There was something there, whether to be warded against or safeguarded, he still didn't know. That he didn't know the particulars was not a problem for the moment. He understood need-to-know intelligence, so he couldn't fault Fitz - not when he was the president - for not telling him everything, but he knew it anyway - there's something more.

There was something in the president's words, something in this situation, something more in this story, something more in her eyes - that told him so.

Just what exactly, he was suddenly determined to find out. He reached for the remote and clicked the images off. And sat there, thinking, into the late hours of the night.

* * *

The phone rang just as Olivia was getting out of the shower the next morning. Not that she expected to have actually slept in - it was barely after seven in the morning - but it would have been nice to have been able to pretend it was for a little while.

"We and your people need to meet." It was Shireen Davis.

Olivia went into fixer mode. "I'll be there within thirty minutes." She wondered what had happened.

Across town, Jake was watching and wondering too.

* * *

They all arrived within ten minutes of one another. Shireen arrived with Quinn, who arrived with coffee.

They gathered around the conference table while Shireen tossed a flat velvet case onto the table.

It slid closest to Harrison, so he flicked the catch open. "Whoa."

Abby lifted an eyebrow. "Sparkly. If it's real."

Huck made a gesture and Harrison slid it down to him. Huck picked the piece up. It was pretty unique; Olivia didn't think she'd ever seen anything quite like it.

It was meant to seen. A spray of diamonds and palest topaz stones, fashioned to resemble a peacock feather. Huck was turning it in the sunlight and it splashed reflections into the room.

"It's real." Huck said, at last. Abby's eyebrows lifted but said nothing. No one else even bothered to question him.

He put it back on the tray and pushed back.

Olivia turned back to Shireen. "This came this morning, I'm presuming?"

She nodded. "Along with an invitation to the State dinner this week."

Shireen sank into a chair. "My mother had asked me to attend - Michael - that's her husband - had plans to be out of town. Her invitation was sudden and unexpected, from what she said, so she asked me to go with her. I hadn't decided. And then this came."

Olivia was staring off into somewhere else. The others stood there, waiting.

"Olivia?" Harrison asked after a moment.

"I'm thinking." she said. Her eyes remained far-away. Facts slid over one another in her mind, slipping and sliding, finding crevices and seeing if they fit. When they did, a hint of a possible pattern floated before her mind's eye for just the merest second before they shifted, rearranged themselves on the landscapes of her mind, trying to find possibilities where they were none, probabilities where there were only possibilities.

"Go." she said suddenly. Before anyone could ask what she meant, she explained. "Shireen, I want you to go to the reception. It could be that someone plans on making contact there - in which case, this situation may be bigger than we thought it was."

"Huck -"

"I'm on it." he replied. "I'll get the guest list and see what information I can pull about who's attending."

"I'm not sure about this," Shireen started.

"Not to worry." Olivia told her. "See if you can get a plus-one from your mother. Tell her you're bringing a date."

As one, everyone turned to Huck, who instantly froze in place, eyes darting from Olivia to Shireen. Abby showed her amusement openly.

"Harrison - you're the date." Olivia said. A wash of relief crossed Huck's face.

Olivia turned back to Shireen. "If your mother can't get the ticket, let me know and I'll see what strings I can pull."

She paused, thinking. "Abby, Quinn - you have pictures of Shireen's jewelry. I want you to hit some high end auction houses or whatever you can come up with. I want to find out why someone would go through the trouble of sending you these pieces and wanting you to wear them for this particular event."

"A sick power play?" Abby suggested.

"Maybe - maybe not. We have to rule out all possibilities - as many as we can - before we can make any sort of educated guess. Abby, I'll want you at that function as to serve as Harrison's second set of eyes inside - we'll work out the details later."

She looked around. "All right people, we have the plan -let's get moving on it."

As everyone started to disperse, Olivia looked at Shireen. "Can I see you in my office for a moment?"

Once there, she waved Shireen to a seat while she started walking back and forth. "I need for you to be honest with me."

"I am being honest with you." Shireen said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"People lie for a number of reasons, all of them good in their mind at the time. But lying to me makes my job harder; lying to me can make my job impossible. What aren't you telling me, Shireen?"

The other woman shook her head. "I don't know. What is it you  _think_  I'm not telling you?"

Olivia stopped in front of her desk and leaned back against its edge. "Who's your father?"

Shireen stiffened. "I don't see what that has to do with anything..."

"Who. Is. Your. Father?"

"Everyone knows my mother's history - that she brought me up as a single mother." Shireen said. Seeing Olivia's expression, she reacted badly and snapped her answer at her. "It's none of your business."

"Why?"

Her hands gripped the armrests on her chair while her voice went low and angry. A little time passed before she was able to answer. Olivia said nothing, waiting.

"Because I don't know."

"You never asked your mother?"

She went silent again. Olivia watched as Shireen visibly forced herself to relax. She looked away from Olivia before she started talking.

"Of course I asked, when I was a little kid. But I learned pretty quickly that my momma didn't like talking about him much and we were pretty much 'you and me against the world' back then so I learned not to ask."

She folded her hands together in her lap. "When I grew older - it just didn't matter as much. Both of us were flying high. We were good - we were  _happy_. My mother hadn't had anyone serious in her life all while I was growing up. And then she met Michael. Do you know he pursued her for  _years_ before she would even date him. Who was I to bring all of that back up, after all she's given up for me?"

"Did it ever occur to you that if this is an outside of your job contacts, that it might be your father trying to reach you?"

Shireen's eyes widened. "You mean the gifts, this invitation?..." her voice trailed off. "It never even occurred to me that my father was even alive..."

"What do you mean?" Olivia asked.

"It was one of the reasons why I stopped asking after I'd grown up a little. I'd heard a rumor - heard it from several sources - that my father might have been a photo journalist -Lewis Parks - that went missing and was presumed dead back in the days of revolutions in the middle east. He wasn't world famous or anything, but he did have a name for himself in the field. I wouldn't ask my mother about something so painful as that."

Olivia stood there and thought for a minute more. "I apologize for pretty much accusing you of not being honest with me. I should have brought the matter up before - but you were so insistent that it was an in-house matter. Why?"

"It's a very competitive space I work in. There are rivalries and sometimes cliques and sometimes out and out disagreements over protocols and policies. We all know it, we all deal with it. It's very much an underground thing - and I won't go into details, but I'd bet it's just as convoluted as some of the issues you've had to deal with."

She looked up at Olivia, allowing herself a small smile. "I've done my homework - you should ask Jake sometimes - you could two could probably swap war stories..."

Shireen's fingers came up to cover her mouth as she realized what she had said. Her expression said clearly that it was obvious that she hadn't meant to.

Olivia hadn't missed it either. "Jake? - Why should I ask...Jake?"

Shireen looked reluctant to say, but it was too late. She smiled apologetically. "Well, not that I meant to blab it, but your name has come up once or twice in conversation. He mentioned something about meeting you at a wine shop? - but I haven't told him anything about why I'm really here."

Olivia wasn't annoyed, she simply filed the information away for later study. She nodded absently for an answer, but her mind was on other matters. "This actually might work in our favor."

"How so?" Shireen asked.

"I'm not sure yet." Olivia answered, one finger tapping against her lips, eyes thoughtful. "I'll let you know when I figure it all out."


	41. Chapter 41

"Those cowardly sons of ..." Fitz was swearing softly to himself as Cyrus and Jocelyn entered the Oval Office.

"Sir?" Cyrus asked.

He slammed his hands down on the desktop in anger. After a moment, Fitz looked up, then waved for the two of them to have a seat at the couches as he came around from behind his desk. He looked down to see that his hands were clenched into fists and made a deliberate attempt to open them and release the tension.

It was harder than he thought; he realized. His anger was still that white-hot. Lives were at stake and he'd been forced to play verbal word-games that yielded nothing. "We've opened up our back-channels for one reason, and one reason only - wasn't that made clear?"

Cyrus was handling the majority of them, nodded carefully. "It's been made very clear to all possible persons of interest that at the moment, our top priority is in retrieving our aid workers. We're not open to discussing anything else concerning the region."

"And I've made sure the word is being spread over our less obvious channels." Jocelyn added.

Fitz nodded sharply. "Then can anyone explain to me why an Irasnian aide just left my office after trying to open up negotiations on oil trade concessions?"

His anger hung heavy in the air and the room went silent in its wake.

Jocelyn was the first to break the silence. "Who was he, sir?" When Fitz told her the name, she nodded.

"Khalif al-Madoun. A low-ranking functionary and not even a blood-relative of the house he serves. It's plausible deniability. Testing the waters and seeing if there was any advantage to be had. If you confront them on it, his superiors would insist that he had overstepped his boundaries and his authority."

Fitz glanced at Cyrus, who nodded in agreement. He looked no happier than Fitz felt.

"Do they think I am playing games here?" Fitz's voice was low and dangerous. Several of his military advisers had brought up the subject of drone strikes more than once in their discussions. He'd held off until now, mainly because there were a few dissenting voices - including Cyrus'.

For a moment, the fact that Cyrus was against it almost made Fitz agree - but then he'd caught himself. There would be no taking revenge against Cyrus when American lives were in balance. He was rightfully ashamed that the thought - however brief it might have been - had even crossed his mind.

But now, there was nothing left in him but anger. Anger and frustration and an iron control that kept them both in tight rein, lest he give in to them. His jaw clenched and his eyes darkened.

"So, what now?"

"The options haven't changed." Cyrus said. "But in my opinion - which you already know - the use of drones is too premature. It will destroy any chane of retrieving any of the hostages alive."

"And the governments of the ESF, have they offered any solutions?"

"Stalemate at the moment. Whatever they're saying outwardly, they are all watching to see how the others leap. Extending a helping hand to America could become a lightning pole and bring down the collective wrath of several rebel and legitimate-in-their-eyes regimes." Cyrus wasn't saying anything that any thing that the three of them didn't know already, but he felt it needed repeating.

"Or they could be the spear point in opening a dialogue between the powers of the region and the United States." Jocelyn pointed out.

Fitz wasn't as open to listening to his advice these days as he used to be, but now was not the time to bemoan the fact. Cyrus had been busy working every contact that he had, but he felt they were making very little progress - too little progress.

He glanced at the woman beside him, and Jocelyn took his cue. A part of him wanted to smile at that. No, Fitz wasn't listening to him as much as he would like, but at least the newest advisor the president had tapped to stand by him in this crisis was one he could work with. And it seemed, they did have at least one thing in common. The both of them were committed first and foremost, to the well being and support of the president.

He'd just have to live with those facts.

"I also want to add that we all know the predominant mindset of the region has been from time immemorial that the enemy of my enemy is my friend..." Jocelyn was saying.

"...In this scenario," she continued, "the East Sudanese Front is neither to the Irasnians. The Irasnians regard them as a tool, one they use to advocate discord and at the same time, claim influence over - when it suits them."

"They know that we don't negotiate with terrorists. We never have."

"They don't know  _you_ , yet, sir." Cyrus said. "Unfortunately this is the first incident involving non-combatants we've had to deal with since you've taken office."

"And their timing couldn't be worse." Fitz pointed out. "Not with a middle eastern State reception and conference right around the corner."

"It's what leads me to believe that other forces might be at work in this. The ESF is not in the practice of working at such a high visibility level." Cyrus said. Their protests are usually relegated to the borders of their own country and rarely beyond it. They say they want freedom from their oppressors - of which we are not one of..."

"In historical terms, no." Fitz picked up where Cyrus left off. "But as an influence, an infringement of traditional ways with Western values - that may have become a part of their idealogy."

"There's always been the purists within their organization who believed that." Jocelyn said. "But they were always few."

"Maybe they aren't the minority any more." Fitz paused to let that thought sink into his mind.

A knock on the door caught their attention. Fitz called out permission to enter; one of the aides to the SecDef opened the door.

"Mr. President, excuse me - but there's a situation; there's a video that's been delivered by the ESF."

They were led quickly to one of the small conferences rooms where the cabinet members pertinent to the crisis as well as as many of his military advisors as could be rounded up on such short notice as was possible. Mellie had appeared as well, but there was no time to object to her presence. Fitz said nothing as she came to stand by his side.

A large television had been wheeled in and set up. Even now, an aide was finishing up with the connections and was powering it up.

"This came to us at the same time the news agencies received it." someone was saying. "There was no time to vet it or to even think about keeping it underwraps for security reasons."

The image was grainy at first, then swimming into focus, it resolved itself into the images of the hostages. They were lined up, all on their knees, all with their hands raised and clasped behind their heads.

A newspaper was thrust in front of the camera for a few minutes.

"So we know that this took place today." someone muttered.

"Isn't this a good thing?" Mellie asked, her face filled with concern. "Doesn't this at least prove that they are all still alive?"

No one answered, but the level of anger, worry and tension rose in answer to her question.

Someone turned the volume up as one of the terrorists began speaking.

Without thinking, Jocelyn began translating.

"The East Sudanese Forces speak with one voice for the peoples of our lands - and what we say is that we want you gone - Western infidels who steal into our country to work their will upon us. We demand..."

An angry rumble went around the room at the word.

Jocelyn's voice caught for just a second at the ferocity of the sound, then continued. "We demand that steps are taken at once to make this so. We have been patient, we have been watchful and this contamination by your corrupt values must not go on any longer."

One of the hostages was dragged forward and hit with a rifle butt, slamming him to the ground.

"To show that our intentions are true, this man, this  _preacher_  of the word of a god not ours - he shall eat of the dirt and drink the blood of his own agony." With those words several men began beating him, slowly, methodically.

When the women among them began to cry out in protest, one of them sobbing and pleading, the men turned their attention to them. They were slapped several times, their screams of pain filling the room. Blood streamed from noses and mouths. When the other two men tried to come to their defense, they too were hit with rifle butts. The women, at least, had been spared that.

Mellie gasped and turned away, burying her face in Fitz's chest. Unconsciously, his arm came up and held her. This was something no civilian should have to see, Fitz thought. He burned with the helplessness of it all. Standing thousands of miles away and he could do nothing to save his people from the torture they and the world were being forced to watch.

Over all of this, one voice began shouting, repeating their demands again and again.

The screen went black.

They all stood in place as still as statues, varying degrees of disbelief echoed in all of their faces. That and the beginning of a deep and powerful rage.

Fitz released Mellie before breaking the silence. "I want a briefing in the Sit Room called within the next thirty minutes. Get the CIA and the Joint Chiefs. I want intel on every military option we have on the table at that time."

"Sir," Cyrus wanted to caution him but his words left him as Fitz turned a glacial glare in his direction.

"We just watched innocent American blood being spilled. Cowardly beasts who would call themselves men assaulting a man of God and - men and women unable to fight back."

He turned back to the room. "We will continue to pursue every peaceful means of getting them released. But at some point, our options will run out and I want other solutions already in place if we are forced to go there."

Fitz nodded once, sharply and the others in the room quickly filed out. He looked around. Mellie was still standing there, her face pale and eyes wide in shock. Jocelyn was still staring at the screen, her eyes oddly blank.

Fitz turned to Mellie. "I wish you hadn't seen that." he said. For once, his voice was kind. He meant what he said. "Why don't you go see our son." the thought springing suddenly into his mind.

"It will do you good." he told her.

Mellie nodded in agreement. "What about you?" she said unexpectedly. "It would do you good as well."

Fitz looked down at her. He almost wished he could go with her, but there was too much for him to do. "Maybe later."

Mellie, for once, understood. She said nothing else before leaving the room.

Cyrus hadn't moved either. He was being very careful and very quiet by choice right now. Fitz didn't care why, as long as he didn't give him any argument right now.

But Jocelyn - he turned his attention to her. She hadn't moved or spoken since she'd stopped speaking. She was still staring at the now darkened screen.

"Jocelyn." and his voice softened a little in concern. "Are you all right?"

She stood there a moment longer, then shook as though she were just hearing him. "Yes. I'm fine." Jocelyn replied. "It's just that...I know Pastor Dan; he's been working in the region for years and no one could doubt his sincerity and his desire to help and not preach. And - and I think - I know one of the women hostages. I know her very well."

She turned to Fitz. "After the meeting with the Joint Chiefs, I'd like to speak with you about something I'd like to try."


	42. Chapter 42

Jocelyn's idea was risky and held no guarantees, but as she had argued - it was worth the try. She also explained her reasons why and once Fitz had heard it, he agreed to let her try.

She hadn't realized until she saw the women onscreen that she knew them. Two of them had been working in other regions besides East Sudan for a number of years - one of them had been a CIA operative, but of course, she hadn't known that.

It was the newest member and the youngest one of the women hostages that had caught her eye.

"I was so concerned with the overall safety and recovery of the entire group, that I overlooked these things." she'd said in apology. Fitz watched as Jocelyn had shook her head, clearly angry with herself. "Unforgivable."

It was one mistake - an understandable one and he told her so. "That's nonsense, Jocelyn. What matters is that you remembered now."

What she had remembered was an email she'd gotten not too long ago. It had been a personal one, which is why she hadn't realized what impact that it had had in their current endeavors.

The email had contained several faces in a video email from her past work - several women that she'd known - all laughing and smiling and shouting. Another former aide worker had sent it to her - it was a celebration for that youngest woman - Jenny - who had just found out that she was pregnant.

The other fact was that the senior agent among them, also a woman - was of the old faith - the same faith of the leadership of the East Sudanese Force.

Jocelyn only knew it because of a conversation that the two women had had long ago, when Jocelyn was still a very active envoy overseas. The woman had expressed her concern over being perceived as something other than the general American public perceived, and was wrestling with the necessity of keeping the matter of her religion a secret. Talking with Jocelyn had helped, with her telling the other woman that keeping her faith between her and her God was always a private matter. As long as she prayed in her heart, He would see and hear.

She closed her eyes for a moment and said a little prayer of her own.

It had taken some doing; Jocelyn had spent the next two days with very little sleep, too busy to worry about such things. Even now, there was a chance that what she'd proposed might not succeed, but with the president giving her permission to proceed, she'd given it her all. Fitz could see the tiredness in her eyes, but he said nothing, recognizing that she wouldn't want the concern.

Recognizing it because he'd seen it too many times in himself.

Finally, all of her hard work was about to be put into action.

Fitz, along with Cyrus and Jocelyn, were escorted deep within the lower levels of the Pentagon. Their destination was a communications room so deep and shielded so that no unauthorized transmissions could get in or out.

Once they had taken their seats, a technician entered the room; swiftly he set up the secured communication modules and just as quickly excused himself when his job was done.

They were alone. Fitz, Cyrus and Jocelyn.

She looked at the both of them. "This is the point of no- return, so I ask you formally - do I have your permission to move forward?"

Fitz nodded. He trusted her - he didn't know why - but he trusted her.

Jocelyn nodded and dialed the number she'd been given.

Even with all of the reception assets in play, the acoustics were grainy.

Jocelyn began with several lyrical phrases, polite yet with no subservience in her tone, no doubt invoked to set the tone of the meeting.

Fitz knew that there were protocols, customs she was wise enough to follow, but his patience had already being stretched to the limit. The glance Jocelyn sent him told him that she knew it just as much as he did.

Jocelyn made a point to translate as she went, repeating everything their opponents spoke in English so that they would understand.

"You would punish the Children of the Book?" she said, and from there the battle was begun.

The voice that answered her was badly distorted by both distance and dialect. And very much offended by the fact that he was dealing with a woman of authority. When he would have objected, Jocelyn shut it down with a few sharp words.

"Why does your president allow you - a woman - to speak for him?"

"My president has given me a great trust - because I know your ways. He knows that I seek the path of peace. Ask of me among the people you know and of the time I spent in your lands and all will tell you the same."

Fitz watched in growing admiration as she brought all of her diplomatic training to her fight. She diffused every argument, in many points turning their own words back on them, using custom, belief and their own sacred words to press forward towards their goal.

"It isn't all of what we want, of course." she had explained earlier. "But we may be able to get the women out."

"That region is not known for their regard of women." Cyrus had pointed out.

"True - but there's a chance that if I can persuade them to follow some of the lesser known tenets of their own holy books, they may relent just enough for it to work."

It was worth the risk, Fitz had decided. If they could get them to release the women, it opened the door for the release for the others.

Now it seemed as though it might be working.

"America is a land of many faiths - including many of your own land - would you execute those as well?" Jocelyn was saying.

"Why should we believe anything you say?" Could it be that there was less anger in the speaker's voice? It seemed to Fitz that maybe, just maybe that were true.

"You need not believe me, but ask this of them yourselves and see that there are those among you who share your beliefs and came to your land because of it. Would you dishonor both hers and your own beliefs? Would you prevent their return to share their views and speak on your behalf as one of the faithful?"

Again she quoted a verse of their holy book, the one admonishing the true believer to protect the women and those weaker than the warrior as a sacred quest. And would it not be a good thing before not only their God, but before men, before other warriors of this world - that they too were capable of mercy?

"Ask those in your - care - and receive the truth."

There was a long silence. The three of them looked from one to the other, silent.

At last there was a response.

"We will think upon what the words that you have said." The line went dead.

Jocelyn had been standing throughout the phone call, arms braced on the table while she had fought her war of words. Now she sank into her chair, the tension evident in both face and body. She sank back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment.

"That went about as well as we expected." Fitz said, meaning to reassure her. "At least they listened."

Cyrus sat back in his chair too; he'd been on the edge of it during the entire conversation. "I might be inclined to say that it went better than expected."

He turned to Jocelyn. "We may have been neglecting your talent by promoting you to a desk."

With her eyes still shut, Jocelyn managed a smile. "Trust me, I like it just where I am. These are special circumstances and I'm happy to do whatever I can in them. But trust me," she said as she leaned forward to pour herself a glass of water that had been left in a carafe for them - "I am quite content to play the role I'm currently enjoying."

She looked first at Cyrus and then at Fitz and smiled. Fitz was somewhat startled to see a flash of pleasure in them; then he thought - everyone has their passion - and this was hers. A glance at Cyrus showed an expression of understanding; he recognized her drive as something he knew all too well.

Jocelyn saw Cyrus' expression and smiled with acknowledgment on her side. "But I would be lying if I didn't admit that that was something of a rush." she admitted.

Fitz smiled back at her. "Jocelyn, there are no words for the amount of appreciation I have for you right now."

"It's nothing," She shook her head, her smile brightening. "As always, I serve at the pleasure of the president."


	43. Chapter 43

The next part of Jocelyn's plan was not met with unanimous agreement. They were back in the Oval Office.

"I'm not sure if this is a good idea." Cyrus said for what sounded like the thousandth time.

"We need the coordination of several offices all with the same carefully crafted message all broadcasting at several strategic times." Jocelyn insisted. "Can you think of any other alternatives?"

Cyrus sat back in his chair, clearly unhappy, but he had nothing substantial to rebut her words with and he knew it. He didn't like the feeling and that was clear as well.

Jocelyn sent him a somewhat apologetic glance. The last thing she wanted was to step on Cyrus Beene's toes - his reputation preceded him - no one with any sense who worked in close proximity to the White House ever wanted to get on Cyrus' bad side.

"I can lay the groundwork, but it would go a long way to have someone more experienced than I coordinating all of the finer talking points we want put out there for the public - the world - to address and consider. We cannot afford to overlook anything, and since my focus, my area of expertise, is not in these kinds of communications, I don't understand the reluctance."

She looked at both men. "Unless there are circumstances that I don't know about that makes this such a bad idea?"

Fitz could feel Cyrus carefully not looking at him and he found himself just as carefully not looking back at Cyrus. Jocelyn was making sense, of course she was. And if they were going to use all of, the weapons at their disposal, then what she was proposing absolutely made sense - it was the most logical thing in the world.

But what Jocelyn wanted was to bring Olivia Pope back into the White House. What she wanted was for Olivia to apply her skills as the former Communications Chief to take all those myriad threads they'd been working on and weave them into something they could put to use in this unseen, underground battle to bring the hostages home safe and sound. Olivia was more than qualified to do the job and they all knew it. But there were somethings that Jocelyn obviously didn't know.

Cyrus was worried about what Olivia's presence in the White House might set off.

Fitz wondered the same.

Jocelyn's gaze went back and forth between the two of them, quietly assessing the level of disagreement that filled the air. Sensing that there were matters that perhaps she didn't know, she decided remove herself from the room.

"Perhaps I should leave you two to discuss my proposal in detail. I'll be in my office." she said at last. Before either man could stop her, she left.

A long silence began.

"She's right, you know." Fitz was the first to break it.

Cyrus stood up and began pacing back and forth in front of his desk. "Of course, she's right. Olivia could prove to be a big help to us right now."

He stopped and looked Fitz in the eye. "She could also prove to be a huge distraction - and we can't afford that right now, can we?"

"Are you insinuating that I can't do my job simply because Olivia would be here, working with us again?" Fitz felt his eyes narrow as he stared at Cyrus.

"I am not insinuating anything, Mr. President. But we both know that the two of you - who are normally some of the best and brightest people that I've known, tend to lose all common sense when it comes to both of you. Would you say I was wrong, sir?"

"I would say that you are not giving us credit to understand the severity of the situation. I can assure I can keep my pants on, Cyrus."

"That's not my main concern, sir; I'm no fool and neither is Olivia. It's your heart that concerns me. Your heart and hers."

That was not the answer Fitz had been expecting. His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Cyrus?"

The other man let out a sigh. His expression showed that he still wasn't sure whether he approved of them or not, but he'd resigned himself to face the facts. "I'm not blind, sir. Not when I know the two of you so well. In the beginning, that night when I first realized what had happened, I told myself that it was just an unintentional fling, something that happened on the road, because of all the intensity and the pressures and the enforced closeness we all were going through."

Cyrus took a deep breath. He'd never wanted to see it, never wanted to admit it, but it is what it is. "But now, I know it for what it is. You love her. You're in love with her. And God help her and you, she is in love with you too. Whether it's a love that will destroy you both - neither one of you seem to care. You just - you just love each other."

Fitz didn't know what to say to that. He didn't know if there was anything to say to that. "But we need her now."

Cyrus nodded. "We need her now."

Fitz's lips twisted in a strange little smile. "Should we toss a coin to see who makes the call?"

"Is it the winner or the loser who makes the call?"

They looked at each other, then they laughed. Together.

* * *

Olivia was surprised - and instantly wary - to see Cyrus show up at her office. She waved him to a seat.

"The gods are capricious." he muttered to himself as he sat. "Why else would I lose the toss?"

"What was that?" Olivia asked. "I didn't hear you."

Cyrus shook his head. "It was nothing. I was just talking to myself. An old man's habit. It happens when we're tired and overworked..."

He looked off into space for a moment. "I thought about owning a book store once...it's a quiet life...people like you, bring you little gifts at holidays..."

"And for you, it would be a slow form of suicide." Olivia gave him a look. "Why are you here, Cy? Is there another White House crisis underway? I already have a case I'm working on and I don't have the time for another."

"Nothing more than what you've seen on the news." Cyrus said. He leaned forward in his chair. "And that's exactly what I'm here about."

Olivia leaned against her desk and gave him another, harder look. "What exactly are you talking about?"

"We need you, Olivia. The White House, this administration needs you right now." He laid out the situation for her as briefly as he could.

Olivia looked suspicious. "I don't know about this, Cyrus..."

Reading her all too well, he shook his head. "This wasn't even his idea, Olivia - but it's a good one. It gives us room to maneuver in. It gives us hope of freeing the hostages."

Olivia examined the plan as Cyrus had explained it to her. She could see the merits of it. But she could see the possible - probable issues as well. But what was her discomfort compared to the lives of innocent people?

"I'll do it." She fixed her eyes on Cyrus. "But this does not mean that the band is back together."

Cyrus shrugged even as a hint of a smile played around the corners of his mouth.

"Close enough."


	44. Chapter 44

He could feel her presence before he looked up to see Olivia enter the room with Cyrus. He and Jocelyn were already seated opposite one another on the twin couches of the Oval Office.

Fitz's eyes looked up to meet hers. They were carefully, coolly polite.

"Mr. President." she said.

"Olivia." He stood up. "Thank you for agreeing to help us in this situation."

"Once Cyrus-" and she emphasized his name purposefully, "once Cyrus explained matters to me, of course I agreed to help this administration, Mr. President."

Not him, his administration. So, Fitz thought, that was the tack she was going to take. Despite the seriousness of their meeting, something perverse in him was prodding him to break that wall of ice she's so carefully crafted. Maybe he would, if he got the chance.

He gestured with one hand for them both to take a seat and noted that she moved before Cyrus did, to take a seat opposite him.

Cyrus handled the introduction between Olivia and the other woman before Jocelyn handed around folders with lists and ideas. Even as they began to discuss the information in them, a part of Fitz's senses remained all too aware of Olivia's presence so close in the physical, yet so far away in every other way. And in spite of her professional demeanor, he knew without a doubt that she was just as aware of him.

Even so, it was almost like old times.

An aide knocked on the door for Cyrus. After hearing his message, he made his excuses to Fitz and asked Jocelyn to accompany him for a moment.

Once the door had closed behind him, Fitz allowed himself the luxury of looking at Olivia fully. White pantsuit, pale cream buttoned up blouse; she was armored to the teeth against him, he noted. She still looked tired, as tired as in the last set of photos that Jake had delivered a few days earlier and he made a comment on it.

"I could say the same about you." Olivia said. His eyes looked as tired as her own felt, although they were both hiding it well, she thought.

Fitz was dressed a little informally at the moment and she hadn't been able to help but notice. His suit jacket had been discarded on the back of a chair and he'd loosened his tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves, which did nothing but show of the play of muscles of his upper body and remind her of his strength - of too many other things as well.

She caught her eyes sliding over that very familiar view, remembering the very familiar touch of his arms around her, his hands upon her. She jerked her gaze away.

"It doesn't look like you've been getting much sleep either." she said. Olivia picked up one of the folders again, pretending to read them over.

But he knew - and she knew - that she was doing nothing of the kind. There were too many memories in this room with them alone for that.

Fitz nodded. "There's been a lot on my mind lately. All kinds of complex issues." He paused. "Not the least of all is you."

Caught off guard, Olivia's eyes flew up and was caught and held by his. Blue and brown gaze clashed.

"I didn't come here for this..." she began.

He cut her off. "And I didn't ask you here for that either - but here we are."

"What do you expect me to say to that?"

Fitz stood, pointed one hand upward.

The cameras.

He walked over to the perimeter of the room, where there were blind spots.

After a moment, she followed him. And repeated her question.

"I expect the truth." he answered.

"The truth? Like the truth you told me when we were at Cyrus and James'?" her voice was hard, for all that it was quiet. "I'm not that cruel."

"Or you're unable to be that honest." Fitz said. There was the dark side of his soul again, making him hard, making him cruel. A part of him was still resisting her. That part of him had to be cruel, before he lost himself in her closeness. But other thoughts were pressing in on him that wanted something else.

Now there was a spark of challenge in her eyes. "Like you've been? You're the bright torch of truth and honesty now, are you -  _sweet baby?_ " The last words dripped from her lips, full of disdain.

Her last two words hurt them both. They had been special to her once, when she had let herself believe that they were special to him, to them. But that had been a lie. How much of them had been a lie?

He saw the question in her eyes. "None of it."

"What?" she stammered, thrown off guard for a moment. She hadn't expected that connection to still be a part of him - a part of them - but he'd known what she was thinking when she hadn't even said a word.

He proved her right with his next words.

"Everything else might have been, but none of us, what we were - what we had - was a lie." He lifted one hand helplessly as though he would reach for her; instead, he clenched it shut with remembered pain. "You left me. You left me and my life went to hell."

That hurt. Olivia blinked, dropped her eyes and looked away for a moment before lifting her gaze back to his. "And now you've returned the favor. You've left me - so where do you think I am now?"

She didn't give him a chance to answer. "You deliberately put me in hell. Sweet baby - have you ever stopped once to think about what hell you put me in with hearing that you used those same words with another woman? I should have hated you - for a moment - I did, I swear I did. But it was one moment weighed against a million others and I couldn't let that one moment define what you felt for me - or what I felt for you."

Fitz was struck speechless; in all the upheaval that had come in the wake of her death and the scandal that had been narrowly averted, they had never really talked - not the two of them - about Amanda Tanner after that one night.

He watched as Olivia paused to take a deep breath. "How can you let one moment destroy everything else? Is this how one mistake has changed you? Is this the man you've decided to become? If so, then may God help this you - and this country."

He was stung by her words. "What did you expect my reaction to be when I found out what you had done?"

"No." she said.

"No?"

"No, you don't get to lay this on me - not totally." Olivia took a step towards him. "I made choices - one of them was a bad one. But now you're making choices - you and you alone.

"The question isn't about what I expected." she shot back. One slender brown finger jabbed at him. "The question is what do you expect of yourself? Here. Now. That's the question. Is the man you've shown me lately, quick with cruelty and self-centered judgment, so sure in his right to be so - is that the man you want to be? Have you really decided that one act defines a person? Is this one act going to decide who you are from this point and into the future? If so, then that's your choice. But you need to make it."

Before he could answer, Olivia spun away, turned her back on him, moving away back to her seat without looking at him again. What he might have said in that moment was lost forever as a knock came at the door and Cyrus and Jocelyn returned.

If he had had the chance, Fitz wondered what he would have said in answer.


	45. Chapter 45

They've met several times now. Their work was of the urgent sort. Time constraints and concern kept their meetings constant.

The both of them were careful not to look each other in the eye too often, careful not to stand too close to one another, careful to keep the tone of their relationship strictly professional, strictly within the bounds of the issues and strictly focused on the goals they were working towards together.

It seemed to fool everyone but themselves.

It was doing strange things to Fitz, to have Olivia working with him again. Hearing her voice, seeing her brainstorm with Jocelyn and Cyrus and himself. Agreeing, arguing, debating, deciding, the rush of fresh ideas explored and expanded upon, merits held up for close scrutiny. It almost felt like old times again on the campaign trail and that was doing strange things to his head and his heart.

And since she had let him know what exactly on her mind, it had made things worse. Her words often echoed in his mind at the worst possible times. As always, they challenged him, pushed at him to face truths and beliefs, to weigh them and determine their true worth.

His true worth.

There are still nights he couldn't sleep; the tension wore him down. He was short with Mellie, who hadn't been pleased to realize that Olivia was back working in the White House. There were too many tense arguments behind closed doors, but at least his wife had had the rare good sense to keep from making any scenes and played her role as the supportive spouse.

But the more time he and Olivia spent together, the more things shifted between them and the more things shifted between the paths his painful thoughts had led him down.

At the end, these issues couldn't go on the way they were - unspoken and unacknowledged - and Fitz at last, resolved to put an end to it. As one of their brainstorming sessions came to a close, Fitz made a decision.

"As always, thank you all." Fitz said. Again, he, Cyrus, Jocelyn and Olivia they were at the small outdoor patio where he and Jocelyn had first taken to working. His doctors, still concerned about his gunshot wounds, had recommended fresh air whenever possible. And since it was in their best interests to have a president in place that was healthy both in mind and body after the assassination attempt, the others encouraged it.

At the moment, they were slipping notes and files into briefcases and folders before leaving to take care of all their other duties.

Fitz found himself making his voice as casual as he could. "Olivia, you need to stay for a moment, please."

She wasn't fooled by his easy tone. Fitz saw her stiffen slightly, then nodded in response.

He felt Cyrus shooting him a swift glance, but Fitz chose to ignore it. Jocelyn, of course, was ignorant of the sudden tension.

When the others had gone, Fitz allowed himself to look at Olivia, to really look at her in the way he wasn't able to when the others were around. Instead of retaking her seat, she'd chosen to stand; her reluctance to be there alone with him was evident in every stiff line of her body.

Keeping in mind the words he'd planned to say, Fitz felt his gaze softening as he looked at her. Understandably, he did not see the same in hers. What he saw was wariness. He'd hurt her, he'd meant to hurt her, and right now, that was uppermost in her thoughts - and it was all reflected in her demeanor now. Arms crossed as though to protect herself, thoughts barricaded against him in her eyes.

So he didn't find it surprising that Olivia returned his gaze stonily and unsmiling. "Was there something you wanted, Mr. President?"

Fitz stood and came to stand before her. "We need to talk."

"Do we? I thought you made things perfectly clear between us the last few times we've - talked."

His hurtful words rose up between them, but Fitz didn't let her see him react to them. A part of him still held his words as truth in his heart; any thing he'd said had been provoked by her actions and she needed reminding about that fact. It was hard enough to do what he planned, but she  _was_ going to listen.

For every step he took forwards, she took one back, until she stumbled up against a tree.

Fitz took full advantage of it and moved forward, placing his hands on either side of the trunk so that she was essentially trapped.

"You have to understand something." He said. His tone was quiet, a little hushed even, but it didn't keep the intensity from it. "Defiance changed everything - it changed  _me._ "

She drew in a sharp breath as though he'd struck her. "You think it didn't change  _me_?"

Olivia made a motion as though she would move. Without thinking, one hand gripped her upper arm, holding her in place.

"Allow me to be a little selfish for a change." he all but growled, a familiar tension rising up inside of him. Being this close to her played havoc with his senses and his thoughts, but during his lonely nights, his thoughts had been changing and challenging him and he had to share them with her.

"Allow me to think of myself first and not about you - because before this, all I could ever do was think of you. But you know that already; I laid my heart out before you not so very far from here. How my every feeling is controlled by the look on your face. How I couldn't breathe without you, sleep without you. How whatever this was happening between us, we were in it  _together_.

"Do you have any idea what my life was like before you came into it? How complacent and accepting I'd become of the life that others had laid out for me, others had built for me? I was going through the motions of living that life - and then you walked into it. Black and white with very few shades of gray - that was my life.

"And then you happened - Olivia - you  _happened._  And I realized that before that moment, I had had no clue was love really was, what my life could be like with a woman like you by my side. I had never been in love before - never. "

Olivia's lips parted as though she would speak, but he didn't let her. He plunged on, admitting what was in his heart.

"So when I learned about your betrayal - do you have any idea of what it did to me? It destroyed me, Olivia. You destroyed me. You brought me to my knees and almost killed me like the bullet in my brain almost killed me - only you tore apart my heart instead."

His words were hitting her, hurting her. But no more than they were hurting him. She had to see that. He didn't want the pain anymore than she did, but she needed to see the seeds that she'd sown, see how they had sprouted and created such bitter fruit.

"Fitz - wait -" he could see in her eyes that she wanted to answer to him, to explain or argue - she wanted to  _fix it_ \- but no, not yet, in the moment, he neither knew nor cared which it was.

"No - you wait. I'm still not ready to hear all that you have to say. Maybe one day I will. Maybe I will never be ready. I just don't know. But I've learned while I was away from you. About me and who I thought I was and who and what I really am. One thing that I've learned is that I can be cruel in my pain in a way that I never thought I was capable of - this is what you've done to me. I'm not saying this to blame you - this time I'm not trying to hurt you - but...but for you to acknowledge it - for you to see - what I've been forced to see myself - what I have become without you in my life. The pain of what you did to me, blinded me for so, so long. Olivia- "and just the act of saying her name mixes him up inside. "Olivia, I'm just starting to get my vision back."

He's not ready to say the words back, but he thinks them. Maybe he's starting to get his old self back.

He's breathing heavily by now, because saying the words aloud have brought their own pain with them. He's filled with all the emotions he'd been trying for so long to deny. It's almost as though he's reliving it all over again. The sensations almost choke him. But for once they don't, not fully - and it's because she is there. Even if she doesn't know it, just her presence was enough to catch him this time. It's not much - but it's enough.

She's breathing heavily now too, because as always, she can always sense his pain, and as always his pain becomes her own. That truth is reflected in her eyes, in the slight tremble of her lips. But even as he watches she firms them - for she has words of her own to speak.

"What am I supposed to do with all of this?" Olivia asked. Her voice was full of the pain she refused to share, of the tears that she would not shed. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't know." Fitz admitted. "I told you - I'm just starting to get my vision back and I'm trying to find my way."

"Find your way to where?" her eyes are fixed on his, seeking answers. There's a question in her eyes now too, one she dares not ask. Not yet.

He shook his head. "I don't know. To survive Defiance, a part of me had to die. Just so that the rest of me could survive. A part of me - a part of my heart - is still on the ground, still bleeding. But I'm just starting to see beyond the pain now."

She struggles to speak. "And am I - what - just supposed to wait while you work this all out in your head?" There was disbelief in her expression.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I need to work this out not just in my head - but in my heart. If you fell in love with me, the way I fell in love with you - between one breath and the next - then what we have can't be dead. And you should be willing to do anything to keep us alive. And if that means waiting for me - then wait for me."

"I did wait - it's been almost a year." she began. "All this time..."

He knows that what he's asking of her is inappropriate. After the what he's done to her - said to her - he knows he has no right. But he asks it anyway. He knows that what he's asking of her is more than most people could be expected to take. And yet, he asking. Because this is Olivia Pope and he believes that she still loves him.

"All this time, I wasn't ready. I don't know if I'm ready now. I am ready to be as honest with you as I can right here and right now - that much I know. That's what I needed to tell you."

He stepped away from her. When something inside him was screaming to take her in his arms instead, he stepped away. This was not the time. Fitz finally realized that he wanted there to be time. When? He didn't know. How? Again, he had no answers.

"I won't ask you if you still love me. This isn't a romantic movie and I don't want to live a cliche. What I am asking is for you to ask yourself that question. Don't answer me now. Think about it and then answer it - not for me, but for you."

Despite all of his earlier resolve, a sudden, irresistible urge flared up - without thinking his hand lifted, and before he knew it, he touched the backs of his fingers against her cheek. Her eyes widened at the contact, but neither of them said a word.

Just as swiftly, Fitz caught himself and took a step back but all the while, his eyes never left hers. Unable to stop drinking in the sight of her, letting her beauty and the expression in her eyes seep in, filling the fractured parts of him inside. He didn't realize that his mouth had lost its harshness or that his eyes had softened when he'd touched her.

"Wait for me, Olivia." That was all he could say before he turned and walked away.


	46. Chapter 46

_Wait for me._

She's weighing the words he's said to her. Fitz can see it every time they meet. Whenever there's a break in their war-room planning, there's always a glance or two that shows it to him.

She doesn't know what a balm to his soul they have been. His mind soaked her presence in like a sponge. Parts of him began to heal. It is a slow, and imperfect and painful process.

They move forward, but the dance is still awkward. They've lost their rhythm and there's no way yet of knowing if they'd find it again. It's two steps forward and one step back. And sometimes a third step to the side. It's complex. There's pride and pain, the foundation between them is cracked in many places, still connected in others.

But there's progress.

Work is progressing; the briefs being put out by the communication department, vetted by both Olivia and Jocelyn are working. World opinions are beginning to weigh in, and while they openly debated the merits and detritus of the country's stance, they are slowly starting to turn in their direction.

Those who might have been against them, are calculatingly silent at the moment, watching, studying all the dialogue that is winging its way back and forth across the oceans and continents, also watching the responses of their own friends, allies and adversaries. Most importantly, it is Fitz and his administration directing the narrative on the world stage and it's starting to feel - hopeful.

There's success.

Unexpectedly they are all summoned to the Sit Room in the earliest hours of the day. And there, on the screen before them, was the fruits of their labor.

A picture appeared of a shrouded man. When he spoke, his voice was deliberately distorted.

"To show the world that we are not animals, that we only seek to serve our people and our faith- we have decided that we will release the women that we hold. This we do only to show our strength of will and our mercifulness."

Muted sounds of relief whispered around the room. They fell silent as the speaker continued.

The voice went on. "But do not fool yourself into believing that our mercy has no limits. It does. And if pushed, we will not hesitate to prove that what we say is true. Our demands stand as before."

The screen went dark. Fitz felt an enormous flood of relief rush through him. He sat there, quiet as the facts sunk in, while all around him people stood and shook hands, pleased as possible at this meager victory.

Meagre it might be, but it was a victory. He only wished he'd been able to do more. A small smile crossed Fitz's face. He felt eyes upon him and he looked up just in time to catch Olivia's eyes watching him. In that brief moment, Fitz knew that she understood the mix of emotions he was feeling.

She nodded in acknowledgment even as her expression softened; Fitz knew that she meant to reassure him that he'd done all he could do, and what he'd done was right. She gave him another tiny nod. He returned it.

And both of them smile, just a little.

* * *

 

Suddenly, before he was ready, it was the evening of the State Reception. And he is looking forward to something other than his duties and the execution of their plans.

He's looking forward to seeing her.

The night of the reception, he's at his desk, working until the very last moment, waiting for his hostage team to join him. Well, at least for Jocelyn and Cyrus; Olivia had begged off. No doubt she was busy making herself beautiful.

The thought brought a smile to his face even as a knock on the door came. A moment later, Jocelyn and Cyrus entered.

"Mr. President." they both greeted him.

Fitz closed the folder on his desk and stood to greet them.

"Thank you for coming." he said to them, giving them another smile. He meant it. With everything that was happening, he'd needed to rebuild an inner circle to rely on. No one man could hold the presidency on his own, despite what those who didn't know didn't realize. It would, it could break a man.

His trust in Cyrus was no longer all it should and could be, but that, Fitz thought, was a casualty of war. Everyone had their priorities and Cyrus' was to keep him, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III firmly and decisively in office - and him, therefore, Chief of Staff and a power behind the throne.

Not for the first time, Fitz wondered if Cyrus was living his own dream of the presidency through him, knowing that for a man like it, it would forever be denied. He knew Cyrus better than the man gave him credit for. It would probably kill him, Fitz thought with a ghost of a smile, if Cyrus knew that Fitz knowing this dead dream of his caused him to exhibit a deep and abiding compassion towards the older man.

Fitz turned his gaze towards Jocelyn. She was dressed in a bronze sheathe of a dress, with a filmy long scarf that she had draped around her shoulders. On one hand, she wore a unique hand-bracelet, one that banded her wrist in gold, and by a series of delicate chains, attached themselves to rings on her third and fourth finger, where baguettes of topaz and diamonds sparkled where they caught the light. They were matched by long single strand earrings crafted of the same stones.

As she noticed his gaze on her, Jocelyn lifted the scarf, twisted it deftly until it lay like a head-covering, framing her face and accenting the glow of bronzed eyeshadow and lips.

"Not quite a hijab, but for our more conservative guests, it might please them to see someone at least attempting to honor their customs." she said.

"And you wear it well. You look stunning." Fitz told her and meant it. "It's a shame that I won't be escorting you in on my arm."

"Well, that's my responsibility tonight." Cyrus said as he smiled at Jocelyn. "And my pleasure as well - Madame Envoy, you give great accessory."

They all laughed.

Cyrus' phone rang. He spoke into it briefly and his eyes went bright with triumph. He hung up. "The word just came in. The women hostages have been released near a British embassy. They are scheduled on the next plane out, with medics aboard."

"Yes!" Fitz exclaimed even as one hand came up to clench the air in a triumphant fist.

Jocelyn exhaled. "Saints be praised." she breathed aloud.

Fitz felt a weight come off of his shoulders; they had done it. The mission was not complete, but they had accomplished part of it.

"We still have a lot ahead of us, I know." Fitz said. He turned and headed for side table where the decanter of scotch and several glasses sat on a tray. "But let's just take a moment to celebrate this success, small as it may be."

He splashed some liquor into a glass for himself - gave Cyrus a wry glance - he knew the man didn't care much for scotch. Fitz paused and looked at Jocelyn. Maybe scotch was too strong, maybe she'd prefer something else.

Jocelyn read his look. One eyebrow arched. He thought that she couldn't handle a shot of scotch? Well, obviously he didn't know her all that well.

"Please." she said. Happy in the moment, she didn't think the president would mind if she let some of her natural attitude creep in. In fact, he might enjoy it - people being themselves around him.

She was right - he laughed. Jocelyn wondered for a moment if she had ever heard him laugh - really laugh - before.

Then they were all standing together on the presidential seal, toasting one another. To Fitz's surprise, Jocelyn knocked her drink back as easily as he did.

"You're a woman of many surprises." he told her.

"I've heard that many times before." Jocelyn said with a grin. "People are always surprised by the things I know."

Fitz laughed. "I don't doubt it. I'm just glad you're on our side."

"Always, Mr. President." she held out her glass for a refill with a challenging gleam in her eyes.

Fitz laughed and poured a second round for all of them. Even Cyrus accepted a second shot.

They touched their glasses together once more and downed their drinks together.

"I know this evening is just as much about work as anything else, but I also want the two of you to try and relax and enjoy yourselves." Fitz told them. "You've earned it."

"I could say the same to you, Mr. President." Cyrus said. "You might try for a little relaxation yourself."

Jocelyn nodded and agreed. "It is supposed to be a party, sir."

There was another knock at the door and then Mellie was there, beautifully gowned in an ice-blue gown that fit her very well. She must have also done her homework, for she, like Jocelyn, had chosen to drape her shoulders in a filmy veil of pale blue gauze.

"Am I interrupting something?" Her eyes were bright, calculating and inquisitive as she looked from one to the other. Yet her smile remained intact.

"Not at all, Madame First Lady." Cyrus was quick to move to defuse her. "I have just had the pleasure of informing the president and Mrs. Martin, that our female hostages have just been released. You would agree that was reason to celebrate, yes?"

She didn't miss the warning glance he sent her way.

"Of course I do." She agreed smoothly, without missing a beat. Mellie ignored Cyrus' meaningful gaze, moving smoothly across the room to stand by Fitz. Too casually, she lifted his glass from his hand. "I understand you all have been working very very hard for this - so let me add my thanks to my husband's." She sipped the remnants of his drink but was unable to keep from making a face at the taste.

Fitz tried not to grin, but almost involuntarily, his eyes went to Jocelyn. She was doing the same as he and it only made it harder for the both of them not to laugh aloud. Her eyes were full of silent laughter and it forced Fitz to pretend to have to cough, so he could get something out.

Cyrus, as usual, was not as amused as the people around him. After all, if Mellie decided to get her knickers in a twist tonight, he'd be the one worrying about the fall out more than anyone else.

"I do not watch All My Children." he muttered under his breath as he crossed the room and poured his own drink. "I  _live_ All My Children." he tossed the shot down.  _I could have run a television network_...

I. Also. Hate. Scotch, he remembered, just as the golden liquor seared his throat.

It seemed that Mellie had decided to ignore that little moment. Instead, she sent another smile around the circle. "But where's Olivia? I would think she would be here toasting right along with the rest of you at such great news?"

Cyrus shrugged as though it were nothing. Things had been at a simmering truce lately between the president and his wife and it was a mission of his to keep it that way. That meant the less said about Olivia in her absence, the better. He entertained himself for a moment with the idea of what if Olivia had been there. Mellie wouldn't have dared say a word.

"I spoke with her earlier; but we've just received this update minutes ago." Cyrus glanced at his watch. "She should be on her way to the reception right now and I'll make sure she's brought up to speed right away." he explained.

He couldn't resist a parting barb. "I'm sure our Olivia has made herself beautiful tonight. A gorgeous woman, our Liv. Such an asset to this administration. I'm sure she'll do us proud tonight too."

Oh, and if looks could kill, Madame First Lady, I'd be a stain of blood on the carpet, he chuckled to himself.

Mellie smiled. It wasn't quite as pleasant as her first one, although she pretended otherwise. "Oh, that's right - I heard that she actually has a date. Some naval officer from the Pentagon, I was told- of course she would want to enter on  _his_ arm. I'd say that was a quite a coup on her part."

She very carefully did not look at Fitz as she dropped that little piece of news on him and he was just as carefully did not react. No doubt she'd come here just so she could let him know of Olivia's plans herself.

"It's a shame that you can't wear your dress whites, honey." she said, slipping one arm into his. She looked at Jocelyn. "Naval men look so dashing and handsome in them - it's one of the reasons I fell so in love with him so quickly after we'd met."

Mellie let her eyes travel over Jocelyn. "You're looking lovely, Jocelyn. I'm sure our foreign guests will find you most approachable. Some of them have the strangest attitude still about women - are you sure they will be able to take you seriously?"

"If I please our guests, it's because of the work I've done in the region." Jocelyn said, smiling just as falsely charming back at Mellie. "Your husband appears to have the good sense not to let beauty alone determine a woman's worth - surprisingly enough, more leaders from that region share that sentiment - if only behind doors. Of course, not everyone is privy to such information. Trust me when I say, my word has weight where it's needed."

Women. Cyrus thought. That was an exchange of claws if ever he saw one, even if he didn't know what triggered it. His eyes met Fitz, who wisely said nothing, but there was something in the president's eyes that Cyrus wasn't sure he cared for. Must all the women in the president's life be so - complex?

"Well, that's why Fitz is here in the Oval Office. He knows how to best use the tools at his disposal for the task at hand." Before anyone could react to her words, Mellie looked up at her husband with a smile. "It's time to take our place in the receiving line."

With Mellie on his arm, and Cyrus and Jocelyn walking behind him, Fitz headed out towards the ballroom. The news of Olivia arriving with a date had been a jolt, and his mind seethed with it. He was barely aware of Mellie's chatter as they made their way to the ballroom.

Did he like it? Not one bit. There had been no reports of her seeing anyone so he did wonder who it could be. But it didn't matter. Not even Mellie's petty little power plays and catty words mattered - though he would make a point of apologizing to Jocelyn before the evening was over.

But Olivia was going to be there.

That mattered. It might be the only thing that mattered.


	47. Chapter 47

"Wow."

Whatever other thoughts are on her mind, they are momentarily superceded by the look in his eyes.

"If this is how dress up for a friend, heaven help what you'd look like on a  _real_  date." Jake said.

There wasn't a woman in the world who wouldn't smile at such flattery. Olivia let herself indulge in it and smiled at him.

Her hair was sleek and waved, imitating a vintage classic old Hollywood look. She was dressed in icy white, from the diamond drops dangling from her ears to the matching diamante encrusted shoes on her feet. For some reason, she had decided to emphasize her eyes, carefully outlining and contouring her eyeshadow combination, palest white with a deeper gray in the creases, making them stand out against her pale foundation and lip color.

Remembering Shireen and her unknown suitor's demand to wear the hairpiece, she had donned one of her own, so as to help to not draw unnecessary attention to her client. She had chosen a crystal hair-pin fashioned in the shape of a delicate orchid. It's lines were simplistic but the results were scintillating, like starsparkle against the dark waves of her hair.

The bodice of her gown was made up of interwoven bands of sparkling silvery fabric, leaving her arms and shoulders bare, while the rest of the gown was left to float down in filmy layers of white chiffon around her feet.

From Jake's reaction, Olivia guessed that her ensemble was a success.

"Shall we go?"

"I am at your command. Your every command." Jake said as he offered her his arm. "Can I ask you to not abuse the privilege?" he added with a laugh.

"Would I do that?" Olivia asked as she took it.

"I'm pleading the fifth."

They were chatting pleasantly in the limo, when Jake received a call. It was very brief, but enough to put a smile on his face.

"I've got something for you." he told her. Something else, he would have teased her with it, but he knew this would be too important to her to play with. "The female hostages have left hostile air space."

Her smile blossomed. "Yes, I received word that they were released just before you arrived."

"Of course you had." Jake said. He shook his head. "I heard you'd gone back to the White House for some reason - did you happen to have a delicately manicured hand in that?"

"I am only there for a temporary protocol assignment not a permanent one, and in the execution of said protocols, I can neither confirm no deny your remarks." Maybe in not so many words, but her smile said otherwise.

He was wise enough not to push it. "Well, in any event, it gives me a reason to break out the champagne." Jake said, as he suited actions to words, pulling out a chilled bottle from a side compartment.

"No doubt you would have found another reason, but I think this time you do, Captain Ballard." Olivia said with a laugh. She really shouldn't have been surprised about the champagne, should she.

Jake skillfully worked the cork loose and filled two champagne flutes. He handed one to her. "To you, Olivia Pope. You never fail to amaze me."

Olivia said nothing but she smiled and touched her glass to his. The chime of the crystal shivered into the air with a clear ring. She took a sip and raised an eyebrow. It was  _very_  good champagne.

"The mission is hardly accomplished, you know." she said.

"We both know that. But this is a step towards that goal. There's nothing more that you can do tonight, so sit back and bask in the glow of your accomplishments so far."

He gave her a look. "I think I like the idea of seeing you glow."

Olivia just shook her head and laughed. He really was impossible - but he did know how to make her smile.

/**/

Fitz stood in the receiving line, Mellie by his side. It occurred to him that her attire, a confection of icy blues, not only set off her eyes but reflected her perfectly. Beautiful but cold and remote, no matter how much she smiled and played at the gracious southern-warmth First Lady.

Thankfully, Mellie had decided to embrace a momentary, unspoken truce in the last few days after she had demanded and he had agreed to his presence in her bed, and it was still holding firm on both sides.

Unconsciously, he compared her smile to Olivia's. Mellie's smile was carefully cultured, perfectly modulated, not to wide and not too narrow. A politician's smile, always keeping the thought of the perfect photo op in mind. But when Olivia smiled, her eyes lit up, their warmth soft and real, so genuine on the lips that always looked so soft and kissable.

That was the thought that was uppermost in his mind as he turned his head to glance down the length of the line.

His heart literally jolted in his chest as he saw her standing there. She was with a group of others, but for a moment, he only saw her. She was ethereally stunning in silver and white.

He dragged his eyes away from her before anyone noticed, forcing his attention to the couple before him. It was a few minutes before she and her party would actually be standing before him. Fitz tried his best to keep his concentration on the many people entering and greeting him; there were several diplomats and their wives here, not only from the middle eastern regions but from Europe and Asia as well, each of them having their own concerns about the region and hoping to make such contacts as they could under the pretense of expressing good will among one another.

Then Olivia and her companions were approaching him. He heard Mellie say something meaningless, and then he was taking in the sight of Olivia's escort.

Captain Jake Ballard.

Fitz controlled his response as best he could, but inside, a flare of irrational rage seared through his chest at seeing the younger man standing there. With her.

"Captain Ballard." he managed to say over the sudden pounding in his chest.

"Mr. President." he said, with a quick salute. "It's an unexpected honor, sir."

"Is it?" Unexpected wasn't the word. Unexpected didn't begin to describe things.

"One of my superiors couldn't make it, sir - and when I was requested to take his place, one of my co-workers was kind enough to allow me to join her table." He nodded to Shireen, who was next in line with Harrison beside her.

Something in Fitz's chest eased a little at his explanation, but the initial heat that had flared through him feeling did not go entirely away. It simply simmered, but gave no sign that it was going to die. He knew without thinking about it that the the coil of heat in his chest was not going to die down for the rest of the night. The truth did not please him.

He turned to Olivia, who put out a hand in greeting. As always, he found himself enjoying the feel of hand in his, how small and delicate it was in his. For a moment, their eyes met and for a moment, once again, he couldn't see anyone but her. She smiled at him and he wondered if there was something more in her gaze than just a simple greeting.

Fitz realized that he wanted there to be more.

Without thinking, his thumb caressed her fingers in an all-too-familiar gesture; one that brought unwanted memories to them both, then the moment was passed and she was moving down the line, away from him. Fitz was introduced to the rest of her group, their names and faces coming and going in a blur though he did note that two of them were associates from her firm. He wondered at that briefly, but the thought was a fleeting one because too soon, the six of them were moving off into the growing crowd and he was forced to welcome the rest of his guests.

Fitz kept smiling and welcoming the others in line, not turning his head in either direction, knowing that Mellie was surely watching to see if he'd react to Olivia's presence. He was damned for sure not going to give his wife the satisfaction.

* * *

 

In the meanwhile, once Olivia and the others moved beyond the reception line, there was a waiter standing by to glance over their tickets and then escort them to their assigned table. They were close enough to have a clear view of the dance floor but not so close to the orchestra so as to be disturbed.

"Wow." Abby said, looking around trying not to appear impressed. She was clad in a long fall of deep green silk that set off her coloring perfectly. Her date for the evening was U.S. Attorney David Rosen. Their attraction to one another was the worst kept secret at OPA, but for now, since they'd proved to be no liability to them, neither Olivia or the rest of the associates had remarked upon it. Yet.

It had been Olivia who had asked him to come as a favor. When he asked why, she was honest enough to tell him that she couldn't tell him the exact reason, but it might be useful to them both at a later time. David, resentful at her he might get from time to time, also knew her well enough not to argue. After all, it couldn't hurt to be seen at a White House function, could it?

But Olivia Pope did nothing for a reason; he only wished he knew what that reason was.

* * *

About an hour later, all the guests had arrived. Fitz gave a short speech that welcomed them all and then he and Mellie stepped out onto the floor for the first dance. As always, their act as the perfect couple held true as they danced alone for a few minutes beneath the spotlight. He even managed to smile down at her. All for the benefits of the cameras, of course.

"Well done, Fitzgerald." Mellie said, flashing her own false smile. "Now, let's hope you can maintain yourself for the rest of the evening."

"Well, since we won't be forced to remain joined at the hip for the entire night, I think I might actually be able to manage a genuine smile sometime tonight while I enjoy myself - wouldn't you agree?" They were both so good at pretending in front of others, he thought. How ironic it's going to be to see these pictures in some magazine with banners proclaiming them as the first couple.

It was almost laughable.

Mellie did laugh, but it lacked warmth. "You're right. Playing the gracious hosts does have some perks - and I have every intention of enjoying myself. And one of the most enjoyable things I intend to do tonight is watch Olivia Pope and her just-her-age and very handsome date enjoy themselves. Together." She watched him carefully to see if her verbal hit had scored.

"They made a very lovely couple - very well matched." The venom in her smile was deadly. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Before he could answer, the song changed and other couples also began to join them on the dance floor. Fitz didn't answer her but continued to dance because it was expected of them. He looked at her from time to time because that too was what he was supposed to do, but he had nothing else to say to her.

After they shared another dance, they were then forced to make the rounds of several groups of people that were gathered in conversations or else seated at the tables that ringed the room together. At least an hour had passed before they could finally escape from one another.

Mellie, as always, played her role to the hilt. Just before she left him, she leaned over and touched her cheek to his in a faux kiss.

"I don't need to remind you to watch how much you drink tonight, do I?" she whispered in his ear. "Do try to enjoy yourself without it - and her."


	48. Chapter 48

"Try to enjoy yourself." Olivia said to Shireen. They were momentarily alone at their table. Jake and Harrison had both excused themselves for a moment, while David had asked Abby to join him for a dance.

"It's a little hard to do, knowing that there's some one plotting and scheming against me along with the possibility that they could be here right now."

"Possibly, not definitely." Olivia tried to reassure her. "It might have been enough for your probable mysterious contact to see you leave dressed as they wanted. After all, a function like this ensures the highest of security measures - which they have to know, plus we've had Huck to keep an eye on you since before then. Hopefully he's caught a glimpse of them tonight and found a clue. He's very good at what he does. All of my people are."

Shireen thought about that and she visibly relaxed. "I believe you, but that doesn't make it any easier." she picked up her glass and sipped deeply.

"You've done what they've wanted. The next move is theirs - and if by chance they do make a move, then we've got the best of protection. Could it get any better than this?"

"Could what get any better?" Jake said as he slid into the seat next to Olivia. At the same time, Harrison came and stood by Shireen's chair.

"You weren't supposed to hear that." Olivia said, directing a smile at him. She glanced at Shireen as though they'd been sharing a girl between girl moment.

Shireen caught on quickly and smiled along with her. "Yes," she said, "We're not going to compliment you where you can hear it, now are we?"

"Now I'm more interested in what I missed than ever." Jake said.

"I'm more interested in where the two of you were?" Olivia asked.

"I was just giving your friend Harrison here a quick tour of the place." Jake explained.

"You mean the men's tour?" Olivia said. Her mouth curved in amusement. "The so-called men's only cigar lounges."

"How did you know-?" Jake began, but then shut his mouth on a grin. "Of course you know - you-"

"Used to work here." Olivia finished the sentence with him.

"Ouch." Jake said. His expression was unrepentant. "And here I thought I was had found a way to impress you. Instead, you could probably teach me a thing or two about the inner workings of the White House."

Olivia didn't say anything. Her smile said plenty, though.

"Let's try something else, shall we?" Jake came to his feet and offered her his hand. "Would you care to dance?"

Olivia did.

As she expected, Jake was good at it. He held her in his arms lightly, one hand holding hers and guided her around the floor effortlessly. They moved together smoothly and it surprised her. He caught that much in her expression; he grinned.

"Surprised?" he asked, a challenge, as always, in his words.

"You never cease to amaze me." Olivia conceded with a laugh. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Do I need to say it?" This was yet another part of th Jake Ballard Experience, no doubt.

"No." She couldn't help herself - and this was a good thing, she thought - Olivia laughed again.

"Good."

They danced in silence for a few minutes. Not that she would ever tell Jake, but she was glad of his presence. He was a shield of sorts; Olivia had had her own issues about coming here tonight, knowing that she'd be seeing Fitz and Mellie together, but she'd managed to bury most of her anxieties by coming here with her people, Shireen and David. She wasn't exactly using them, but their presence did serve a purpose in anchoring her in the here and now instead of the what ifs and could have, should have beens.

They were another shield in her defense. D.C was a small town and there were bound to be times when she would be in close proximity to Fitz now and again. She just had to learn how to endure it. And she'd use every defense at her disposal when it came to her heart's protection.

Jake's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Hey, so how's it been going?"

"What?" Olivia as somewhat caught unawares but recovered quickly. "How's it going?"

Jake looked down at her, a quizzical look on his face. He nodded to his left where Shireen and Harrison were dancing together a few feet away. "About Shireen? Remember, I vetted her to do the work she's doing for your company? I was thinking you two seem to be getting along well, so I thought I would ask how she was."

"Shireen? Oh, things are fine between us." Olivia caught herself up. "As far as the actual work, you'd have to speak with my tech guy - and he's not here tonight. He's not the black tie and formal party type."

Jake nodded and they continued the dance for another moment. "Well actually, I know better than ask about her work - I'm just - there's no particular reason - I was just wondering how she seemed to you."

"Why would you ask?" Olivia let a puzzled expression settle on her face. At the same time, her mind started working. She'd never forgotten that Jake was in Intel, but at the same time, the last thing she wanted was for him to turn his attentions in their direction.

Jake shrugged. "I don't know; not exactly. You did remember that we work together, right? I just wondered if she was all right. I do concern myself with the people I'm tasked to guard."

"She seems to be all right, doesn't she?" she didn't quite lie, but Olivia found herself unexpectedly regretting that she couldn't be fully honest with him. It seemed as though his concern was genuine and she couldn't fault him for that. But she was a gladiator for her clients, first and foremost. Always. What he wanted, she couldn't give him. A pity, she thought.

"It's nice that you care." Olivia said, having made her choice. "Very heart-warming."

"Yes, I am a good guy, aren't I? At least most of the time. Didn't you notice the white hat?" he joked.

"Hmmm." Olivia took a moment to look him over, then nodded. "I noticed. I noticed the white hat."

Too bad she couldn't tell him about hers.

* * *

 

"Explain to me again how it is that I'm breathing such rarefied air?" David said to Abby.

Abby tossed her long red hair over one shoulder and shrugged. "Olivia and Shireen snagged a table for the event, there was an extra seat, when suggestions were opened up, your name came up."

"So, I'm back in the friendship column." David cocked a cynical eye at her. He glanced over to see that Jake and Shireen were dancing together. "Who is this Shireen? Or is there a new gladiator in sweatshirts over at OPA?"

"Quit that."Abby raised one hand to tug at his bow tie - but not too hard, because he was looking all kind of handsome to her in it and the last thing she wanted to do was mess him up. At least not now. "And no, Shireen Davis isn't a new associate. She's just a freelancer doing some extra work around the office for a bit."

He didn't answer her; damn if he didn't know her a little bit too well. Normally cool and sometimes a little too collected, he had the patience to wait her out. It worked; eventually Abby fidgeted under his gaze until she couldn't take it. "What?"

"That was really just a little bit too well said, you know." David said, his tone still conversational, but his eyes were bright and questioning behind his glasses. "Maybe you'll actually tell me the truth before the night is out."

It wasn't in Abby to give in so easily. "Shut up and dance with me, David Rosen, or you won't be getting  _anything_ before the night is out."

David complied, but not without a last glance at OPA's newest addition. Who was Shireen Davis?

/**/

Shireen looked up to see Jake studying her. "What?"

"I don't know." Jake said. He drew her a little closer to him on the dance floor. "I'm trying to figure out what's up with you. You're tense - I can feel it."

"I'm nervous. I'm at a White House ball, with the president and the first lady, I'm praying that I won't trip over myself, or spill my champagne, or do any number of things that will embarrass me and scar my soul for life."

His expression said he wasn't quite sure whether to believe her or not - worse of all, she was certain that they both knew it. That alone made her waver between telling him everything or keeping it to herself as she had so far. This was no one's business but her own, wasn't it? And the truth was, she didn't know who to trust right now. Sometimes she didn't even know if she could trust herself. That alone, made her hold her silence.

Shireen changed the subject instead. "How about you? Are you enjoying yourself?"

Jake smiled. "At this moment, more than you know." he raised her hand to his mouth and briefly brushed his lips across them.

"Flirt." she said, smiling even as she scolded him.

"Jealous?" he asked.

"Hardly."

Jake laughed to see the sudden challenge in her eyes. "I could be motivated in your direction if we continued that conversation about that french maid outfit."

"Assuming that I want to continue that conversation - " Shireen began, but before she could finish her sentence, a familiar profile caught her eye. Before he could answer, she was turning her head as a familiar profile flashed into view as she and her partner were leaving the dance floor, their backs to her. Shireen grabbed Jake's hand and pulled him after her.

Remembering the warnings that Olivia Pope had made, Shireen was grateful to see Abby Whelan and her partner close by. She touched Abby's shoulder as she passed her and was grateful to see the other woman check herself. No doubt she would ease herself and her partner in that general direction.

"Momma!" she called out. Shireen saw her mother turn at the sound of her voice. What amazed her even more was the face of her dance partner who had been escorting her off of the floor.

Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III. The President of the United States was her mother's dance partner.

"Momma?" was all she could manage.


	49. Chapter 49

"It has been a long time since I've seen my president smile."

Fitz looked down at Jocelyn and smiled again. They were dancing in the middle of the ballroom and as he had told Mellie, once he was away from her, he was managing to enjoy himself. "It's been a long time since I've had anything to smile about. Our mission isn't complete, but we've made progress."

Jocelyn shook her head. "May I respectfully request that we don't discuss that any further for the moment?"

As he looked at her inquisitively, she continued. "You, sir, need some down time. You cannot keep going twenty-four seven. No one can. No one should."

"I'm dancing with one of the most beautiful and intelligent women in the room - I think that counts as down time." She was right, though and at least with Jocelyn, there was no pressure to say the right thing, or measure his words before he spoke. He could take some time to relax.

She laughed. "I won't argue with that."

Her expression went serious for a moment. "But it is why I suggest the change of conversation. You can't allow yourself to forget - or force yourself not to remember - that you suffered life-threatening gunshot wounds not too long ago. You need to take care of yourself better."

Jocelyn paused, looking slightly embarrassed as she laughed at herself. "I'm sorry, listen to me lecturing the president. I apologize."

Fitz shook his head; her concern touched him - and knowing it was real moved him even more. It felt good. "Don't apologize - you're a friend lecturing a friend. It's what friends do when they are concerned."

Her eyes fixed themselves firmly on his face. "I'm honored that you consider me a friend, Mr. President. I would very much like to be yours."

Fitz grinned down at her. "Well, first of all, friends don't address one another by title when it isn't necessary. You do know my name, don't you?" He teased.

"I think I do." Jocelyn hesitated. "Fitzgerald?" she said it slowly as she tried his name out.

"My friends call me Fitz." he said with a laugh that she quickly joined in on.

"Well - Fitz - I am going to say one more thing on the matter and then the lectures for tonight will be over. My mother and my grandmother, taught me a saying that I've passed on to my own daughter. ' _Remember that somebody didn't wake up this morning, so live today like there's no tomorrow_.' Sometimes that's something that you just have to do. Sometimes you have to learn to do."

The intensity in her eyes deepened, something in them that told Fitz that she was speaking of more than the subject of his rest and stress. Something deeper - more meaningful than just a family saying. She looked at him but refused to explain herself further.

They continued to dance without speaking while Fitz absorbed her words. There was a sense and sensitivity to what she'd said. Why hadn't he had reason enough to see that for himself? He'd been a breath away from dying from a bullet in his brain. After learning about Deception, there had been moments when he'd almost let himself believe that death would have been better than the crushing feeling that had enveloped him for far too long.

But he hadn't died. He was here.

And so was Olivia. Fitz resisted the urge to look for her. He still hadn't been able to decide in his heart what it was he wanted. He was still angry at her, so very very angry. But if she were gone tomorrow...

Fitz smiled, slowly. "I've been taking your advice so far, so why should I stop now?" he said. "Obviously you come from a long line of incredibly strong and wise women."

"Indeed I do." Her smile was refreshingly warm and genuine and Fitz felt his own heart lifting. "Thank you, Mr -" she caught his warning glance. "Fitz."

The music came to an end and they joined in the applause. Fitz, not wanting this interlude from his presidential duties to end, asked Jocelyn to join him having a glass of champagne. They walked off the dance floor chatting quietly.

"I think I would like to meet your mother." he said.

"She would have liked meeting you, but unfortunately she passed away while I was still in my teens. My grandmother had the raising of me; and stubborn petite grandmere that she was, she wasn't ready to lay her burdens down until I was well established and secure in my own life." Jocelyn smiled with the memory. "She had a great strength of spirit."

"Which you've obviously inherited."

"I like to think I've passed it on to my daughter as well."

A voice from behind interrupted them. "Momma?"

She and Fitz turned around to see a young woman approaching them. From her looks there was no mistaking her.

Jocelyn held out her arms. "Speak of the devil and surely she appears." she said with a chuckle as she embraced her daughter. "Fitz, may I introduce my daughter, Shireen Davis?"

Fitz was amused to see the barely concealed awe on the younger woman's face. "Mr. President." she said almost breathlessly.

His eyes went to her partner; Jake was standing at full attention.

"I'm afraid I don't know her friend." Jocelyn said as she turned her gaze to him.

"A co-worker, actually." Shireen remembered her manners. "Captain Jake - Jacob- Ballard."

Jake snapped a salute to Fitz -"Mr. President." he said formally before he turned slightly to bow to Jocelyn. "My pleasure, Madame Envoy."

Fitz noticed that Jake showed no familiarity towards him and decided to play along for now. He wasn't too pleased with the man right now, anyway. The sight of him with Olivia on his arm flashed in front of him and left him with such an unpleasant feeling that Fitz felt that he had to force a smile onto his face. "At ease, Captain, neither one of us is exactly on duty at the moment."

"Thank you, sir."

"Former Envoy,"Jocelyn corrected him with a smile. "I am not as I used to be."

"I find that a little hard to believe, Madame, except like a fine wine, you've been improved by age." Jake said.

Laughter sparkled in Jocelyn's eyes. She glanced at her daughter."I think I like him, daughter mine. I imagine you working well together."

She turned to Jake. "Since you are her co-worker, I won't bother to ask you what your duties are; my daughter tells me little enough as it is."

"I don't ask you about your duties either, Momma." Shireen reminded her. "Because I, at least know better."

Fitz laughed as Jocelyn threw him a look. "See what you have to look forward to?"

"It looks like she's following in her family's tradition." Fitz laughed again as he took Shireen's hand. "If my daughter grows up to be as beautiful as yours, then I'll have no reason to complain."

She  _was_  a beautiful woman, obviously taking after her mother. The only difference he could see was that her eyes were slightly tilted at their outer corners. Otherwise, she was the image of a younger Jocelyn.

"You're as lovely as your name." he said. "Shireen - it's ancient Persian for 'sweet,' isn't it?"

Jocelyn was pleased; she quickly explained that when she carrying Shireen, she had been working her first overseas diplomatic posting; the name had caught her eye and stuck.

"My mother always forgets to add that she was also craving plenty of Shekapare sugar-candy." Shireen added. A Persian treat, she explained.

"I thought you kept secrets, _chere_."

"Only the necessary ones, mother of mine."

Except for the fact that he couldn't the sight of Jake's arrival alongside Olivia out of his mind, Fitz was enjoying the mother-daughter exchange. It was obviously a long standing sort, full of light-hearted teasing and love; it was clear that they were friends as well as blood-relations. It was everything he hoped for his own childrens' relation with their mother and was so afraid that they would not have.

Those thoughts were banished from his head as he noted Jake's gaze shift for a moment. He followed the other man's gaze and noted with a flash of unpleasantness that it focused on Olivia. She was across the ballroom dancing and talking with one of the senior ambassadors of the Irasnians - it was Adaran Farouk, Fitz realized with an unpleasant jolt - and they seemed to be deep in conversation.

That didn't matter. Jake's gaze quickly slid away but that didn't matter either. The idea that Jake was looking at her, and he couldn't read his thoughts or his eyes sent a thin heated strand of irritation coiling through him. It spiraled upwards swiftly, in both measures of heat and intensity.

It was irrational, he tried telling himself. But even so it was real. Fitz tried turning his mind back to the conversation at hand, but found himself totally lost. He needed to get his mind on something else. So instead he struck a conversation about Jocelyn's daughter's jewelry. It was a safe enough conversation he thought; there wasn't a woman alive who wouldn't be pleased by compliments like that.

Besides, the pieces she wore seemed to be very much unique in their own right. Especially the hairpiece. He remarked upon it.

Shireen seemed startled by the question, especially when her mother stepped forward to look at it closely.

"I found it at an estate sale," Shireen lied. "Some friends talked me into going antiquing with them a few weeks back and I found this piece of old jewelry. I thought it might be fun to wear tonight."

"It's very - unique." Jocelyn said. "Have you had it appraised?"

Shireen shook her head. "I hadn't thought about it; I guess not knowing just lends to the mystery of it all."

Jocelyn looked thoughtful but said nothing, Fitz noticed. No matter how old they get, they never stopped being a parent. No doubt her mother was being practical, thinking of insurance and investment values, things like that.

They were interrupted by one of his officers, who apologized for the intrusion but asked to speak to the president for a moment.

"It concerns Pegasus, sir." Pegasus was the code name for a portion of the aides kidnapping. "He looked at Jake, recognizing him as being an assistant of one the Pentagon security chiefs.

The man turned back to Fitz. "With your permission then, sir, I'd like for Capt. Ballard to accompany us. This intel will be coming to him eventually and every eye, ear and head in on it is needed."

The three excused themselves to one of the private cigar rooms that were located along one wall. The last one at the end of the corridor had been reserved and secure for the president.

There the officer briefed them quickly. They'd been lucky enough intercept some transmissions from an area known to be blind-eyed to the idea that rogue groups used their more remote areas as mobile bases. Quite a lengthy conversation just finished and the encryption labs are working on several translations. Some of them were being done up in ancient tongues.

"The first translations are expected to be ready for a first run-through in about ninety minutes."

He answered a few more questions and left.

"Wait a minute." Jake turned as if to go to the ballroom, when Fitz's question stopped him in his tracks.

"Jake, what are you doing here with Olivia Pope?"


	50. Chapter 50

"Fitz?" Jake turned to face him with a puzzled expression.

Jake's "Fitz?" didn't fool Fitz at all. It was a stall tactic. At the same time, he saw how Jake's entire self shifted as his body, and therefore his mind, went to a military readiness. Instinctively, Fitz's body did the same.

Jake's attempt at hesitation only fueled Fitz's quickly rising temper. A slow burn of his senses invaded him but he was blinded to its real source. He didn't realize it was pure jealousy filling him, all he knew that he was angry and that anger made his voice sharper than he would have liked.

"I think it's a reasonable question? Why is the person on your arm someone who is also the subject of the surveillance ops I brought you on board for?"

"It was serendipity, actually, Fitz..." Jake tried for a smile and a joking tone.

"You want to be very careful in how you answer me." Fitz cut him off, the jealous anger overtaking him and making him rash.

In an instant the air between them changed; their usual camaraderie was gone. The air went heavy with a tense silence.

"Who is this asking?" Jake asked.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Fitz asked, even though he knew the answer. In the moment, he didn't care. It didn't matter what Jake thought; all Fitz wanted was to know was what the hell was going on. And he wanted to know  _now_.

"Who is this?" Jake repeated. "Am I addressing my friend or the commander-in-chief?"

Fitz didn't answer him, which was actually answer enough for the other man. Instead, he kept to the matter that was uppermost in his mind. "You haven't answered my question. Is dating your subject a new form of surveillance?"

"We are not dating." Jake reacted to his verbal slap by straightening to full military attention. "Sir, Olivia Pope would be the first to let you know that I am definitely not her date. By coincidence and circumstances outside of my control, the opportunity to be her escort for this function came up and I took it. There's nothing more."

He had had questions of his own for some time and now that he found the opportunity to do so, he dared to voice them.

"You've brought her back into the inner circle of the White House, haven't you?" Jake returned his answering glare with a quick one of his own. "If it's a matter of trust, then why did you? And if it isn't a matter of trust, then just what is it that you have me doing?"

"You're questioning my actions now?" Fitz's voice was tight.

"Never. Sir. I'm questioning mine - it's just that I find myself needing clarification on the extent of my orders." Jake said. He was careful to keep his own temper in check, but it was very clear to see in the clenching of his jaw and the hard glint in his eyes. "I am also curious as to why you're suddenly questioning  _me_."

"Your assignment was to keep an eye on her. Your escort services were not part of your orders."

"I've told you why I did already. Also - if - as I've also told you, she was getting herself involved in matters that might affect your administration - I thought I might have a chance tonight to uncover that. That was my only goal." It was all the truth except for his last words, but the lie slid easily from his lips along with the rest.

"What did she do?"

Fitz was caught off-guard by Jake's question. "What?"

"What did she - Olivia Pope do to you?"

The question stunned Fitz into silence for a moment; Jake didn't know what he was asking, not really. "I have my reasons."

"That you're not going to share." Jake replied flatly.

"It's not necessary that you know them at this time."

"And why is that?"

FItz stepped closer. "You. Do. Not. Get. To. Question. Me."

Jake didn't back down. "And why is  _that_?"

"Enough." Fitz's voice came close to a shout. He wants to grab the other man by his lapels, to stake a claim that isn't his to make. Instead, his hands clench themselves into fists as Fitz struggle to control the sudden irrational rage that's flooding though him. He barely succeeds. "I brought you in to do a specific assignment - if  _you_  cannot control yourself enough to accomplish it, let me know and I - I..."

He'll what? Fitz doesn't know what he'll do. He will lose his last ties to Olivia, for whom else can he ask to do such a thing like this for him? The idea of this final loss snatches away his ability to think for a moment.

"You can what - sir?" Jake dared a defiant glance at Fitz. "I am in complete control of myself, Mr. President. I can and will do whatever my Commander-In-Chief orders. But I don't understand the problem here. And if you don't believe any of what I've told you, then you can ask the lady in question yourself."

"Let's do that." The hot energy that was boiling inside of Fitz made him eager, swift to move, leaving Jake to follow. They returned inside to the ballroom. There was a pause to speak a hastily breathed excuse to Jocelyn and her daughter, and then he walking across the ball room to Olivia's table.

Another song was starting up, so most of the people were leaving their seats and heading for the floor. Others had already retreated to the edges of the room, to gather in small and shifting groups, conversations eddying and flowing in the wake of the melodies filling the room.

The rest of her party were nowhere to be seen. Olivia, however, was still at the table, standing with her back towards him, so she had no warning of his approach. As he drew closer, Fitz saw yet another naval officer standing before her, his mannerisms showing that he was obviously asking her to dance.

 _Another man_... One that had danced with her earlier, he'd kept track of every man that had. Unreasonably, Fitz's anger grew even hotter, even though she put up a hand and shook her head gently. The other man walked away with a dejected half-smile; she turned to take her seat - and then she saw him and froze in mid-motion.

Despite the music, despite the lights and noise all around, for them, there was suddenly an odd little pocket of silence surrounding them. Or was it just the space of breath between his heart and hers?

"Olivia." he hadn't had a chance before now to really look at her, and in spite of the pounding in his head and the heat in his chest, Fitz had to take a moment, a breath, to take her all in. Draped in silver and white, asparkle with diamonds, the sight of her had the effect of erasing all else from his mind. That lasted until she spoke.

"Mr. President." Cool. Polite. So unlike his  _Livvie_.

"Are you enjoying yourself this evening? Enjoying the company?" He found his voice, his mixed emotions giving it strength. A part of him knew that Jake was somewhere behind him and privy to the words he was speaking, but Fitz found that he no longer cared. He knew his words had something of an accusatory note in them, but Fitz found that he didn't care about that either. He was unexplainably tense, angry and unsure and that made him even angrier at the loss of control.

"I'm finding the company I'm keeping very nice, thank you."

"I see." He could be as cool and polite as she could, Olivia noted. Wrong, not cool. His voice could never be anything but warm. As warm as a smooth and well-aged scotch. Her lips firmed themselves just the slightest bit, refusing his voice to have its usual effect on her. Other than that, there was no sign of her true reaction.

"I just met one of your table mates." he said.

Her eyes went from him to Jake and back again. For a split second, Olivia thought about smiling at Jake. It was a satisfying thought - she most definitely didn't answer to anyone but herself - but better sense advised against it - there was something about the tone of his voice and the look in Fitz's eye that warned her not to.

As carefully as he was speaking, what he was feeling was something different about him, something was running deep below the surface right now. After all this time, she realized that she still knew how to read Fitz, still knew his moods no matter how well he hid them from others. But now she realized that they were very very dangerous emotions that she was unable to read. Unable to resist reacting, her insides nervously fluttered.

"Him? No, he's a co-worker of someone I recently met." she said.

"Shireen Davis - yes, that's who I meant." Fitz saw her gaze move to Jake then back to his. His response surprised him - he felt a tightness in his chest and resisted the impulse that wanted his hands to curl up into fists; he tried to cover up his reaction with a lie. "I didn't know that you knew her."

"Like I said, it's a recent acquaintance. In D.C., it's not too hard to meet people who know people that you know." She said.

She knew something, Fitz realized. Olivia knew he was having a reaction - but she didn't know the what or why of it. Neither, Fitz realized, did he.

"Or you think you know." A moment after the words had left his lips, Fitz knew how they were going to be received. And it hadn't meant it that way; he hadn't meant that to be about them at all.

But he wasn't in the mood for apologizing either. Not in so many words, at any rate. It didn't make sense and he didn't care, all of a sudden, all that mattered was what he wanted right now.

Fitz started to put out one hand towards her, then changed his mind. Too late; her eyes caught the gesture; Olivia looked at his hand then at him. He couldn't read the thoughts behind her gaze and that only angered him more.

"We need to have a conversation." he told her. Damn it, Fitz thought, he needed to know what was going on. He didn't trust coincidences; he dealt with facts drawn from several sources. He'd heard Jake's side, now he wanted hers. And he was going to get it.

"I'll also point out that it might look peculiar to those who know us both that we haven't danced with one another all evening."

"And this matters - why?" her answer was swift and short.

"Because," Fitz found his anger rising again without knowing exactly why. "it would possibly raise questions that don't need raising at this time. You're too smart and too closely tied to this administration not to know that. So don't pretend that you don't."

He was right, and that did nothing for Olivia's feelings. He could see her own temper beginning to rise and all it did was fuel his own.

She did do her best to rein it in. Olivia tried to get out of his invitation politely. "I just turned down one of the Joint Chiefs- it wouldn't look particularly gracious of me to turn around and dance with someone else."

Fitz shrugged. "The song is almost ended..."

That much was true; the last bars of music were drifting to an ending. Couples were dropping away from one another, followed by a soft round of applause.

"And besides-" and the timbre his voice took - low, intense and determined - snatched her feelings away and turned them upside down like the first sudden swoop of a rollercoaster. His eyes smouldered with intent as they fixed themselves on her. "I am the president of the United States. I don't accept no as an answer."


	51. Chapter 51

She caught herself before she put action to thought, but Olivia's first response was to throw that arrogant remark right back in his face. It didn't get directed in her direction very often, but the mantle of authority and command that was a part of him was in full effect. It was a part of him, often unconscious, his charisma, a part of what had gotten him elected. He'd had it tonight, and he had it now - it filled the air between them with a volatile challenge.

There was something more to it, though. Olivia thought as she stared back at him. Knowing him as she did, she sensed the anger seething just below the surface. It made her wary, but no less willing to give in.

The problem was - that kind of power was its own brand of aphrodisiac. Against her will, Olivia felt herself respond. Her pulse began to race and her body tightened with remembered desire as his voice reached her in places that they shouldn't.

And right now, Olivia told herself sternly, that was the last thing she needed. She didn't realize it, but she raised her chin in a gesture of defiance. It was more directed to herself than it was to Fitz, but there was no way that he could know that.

Fitz watched her chin lift slightly; her quiet defiance fueled his own. When her eyes flashed fire as they were doing now, they did strange things to his insides. A heavy throb of heat went through him. Recognizing his rising desire for what it was, it only fed the flames. Fitz realized that he was coming dangerously close to losing his temper here and now. Her next words didn't help.

"Maybe that's part of the problem." Olivia said. She was not here for herself, Olivia reminded herself. She was here to serve not only as the administration subtle eyes and ears, but for her own client as well. She did not have time for this.

And truthfully, she didn't have the heart for this, either. It was better for them both if they avoided a confrontation, so Olivia tried for the obvious way out. He'd been angry with her off and on for so long, she'd use it against him. "Hearing no once in awhile is good for everyone."

She tried to move past him, to get away, but Fitz had no intention of that happening. One hand reached out and caught her by the arm; that hand quickly slid down to take her own, enfolding her in an iron grip she couldn't break.

Before she could react, Fitz was drawing her with him onto the dance floor. Nothing short of the jaws of life could have pried her hand loose from his. It was obvious that the only thing that would get her loose would be to jerk away and cause a scene.

Fitz didn't care what she had to say; he was going to get what he wanted no matter what. He felt her stiffen as he reached out and took her by the arm, but he was sure Olivia wouldn't do anything to draw unwanted attention to them - she was much too professional for that.

Not that she wasn't thinking it. It was very clear in her eyes that she was definitely thinking it. Her body was stiff as his free hand slid down lower to encircle her waist.

"This isn't a good idea..." Olivia finally managed to find her voice. She refused to look at him even as they moved into the rhythm of the music.

"I didn't ask you if it was." he said. His voice might be cool, but his eyes were anything but. "But I have questions, and I want answers."

That brought her gaze up sharply for a moment.

"Mr. President," she looked away again, trying in vain to put a wall between them. "Whatever you wanted to ask me, could have waited for a more opportune time."

She felt his eyes on her, willing her to look at him. Olivia sensed that he wasn't going to stop, so finally she forced her eyes to meet his.

"And if that's what I wanted to do, then that's what I would have done." he said. His eyes bored down at her. "Maybe being this close, just maybe I'll be able to see the truth in your eyes as we talk."

"What kind of questions?" Olivia struggled against her own feelings, trying not to rise to his baiting, not to react to his closeness, or the touch of his hands on her. "And if someone notices that our conversation seems a bit intense, just how will you explain it?"

"I won't."

Her eyes widened at his words.

"When I choose to, I don't answer to anyone." Fitz said. He didn't care how he sounded; he was only telling her the truth.

"And neither do I." Olivia shot back, stung by the easy arrogance in his tone.

"That's not quite true, Olivia." Fitz wasn't thinking as he closed the space between them.

"Why are we doing this here and now?" Olivia tried to move backward, to put some much-needed space between them. Fitz this close was dangerous to her system. And for some reason, he seemed more dangerous than ever in ways she couldn't even begin to put words to. She tried to free herself again, but the hand on her waist slid around her, not only holding her in place but drawing her closer. The heat of his body touching hers seared through the fabric, scorching her senses.

"Because I wanted right here and right now." He cocked his head slightly as he studied her face. "I find myself full of questions as to how you arrived here tonight on the arm of a Pentagon officer and for what purpose?"

"Jake?" she reacted with surprise.

"And I see you know him well enough to be on a first name basis with him." Fitz didn't care what he sounded like. He just wanted to know what was going on. "Again, for what purpose?"

"Purpose?" she looked puzzled for a moment. Her voice turned incredulous. "Purpose! What do you think - that I'm after military secrets?" she laughed then, but it was humourless and held a note of disbelief. "How dare you think -"

"Don't!" Fitz's voice started to rise. but he caught himself. He knew that what he was saying was farfetched but he couldn't help himself. Jealousy was ruling both his head and his heart. "Don't insult my intelligence! What you do depends very much on secrets and intelligence and we both know it. You're working with the administration right now - with  _me right now -_  but I'm well aware that you have other clients. And now you show up with an Intel officer - what else am I supposed to think?"

Olivia forgot their surroundings, forget others might be watching as her anger got the best of her.

"You're supposed to think that I have a little more integrity and  _intelligence_ than to show up at a public event with someone who would cause me any amount of suspicion! Accuse me of what you like for what's happened between us - but if what you are trying to insinuate is that I'm some sort of opportunist? Don't you dare."

"Like you've shown so much restraint in the past!? Or have you forgotten all about Thorngate and Edison Davis?" Visions of her and the senator crept unbidden - unwanted - hated - into his mind, the pictures he'd been given acting like fuel on the fire.

"Enough!" she hissed. She wished she could shout it at him. They were not going to go down this road again. She couldn't take it, it hurt too much the last time. It hurt every night she heard his words in her head. She did this to him. She knew it - she knew it - the pain echoed in time with her heart and her heart pounded as though it would burst through her chest.

The song ended and another one began; Olivia tried once again to slip free of his embrace, but he refused to let her go. He was not going to stand by and watch this happen. He had put the two of them in the same orbit, but he wasn't going to make it easy for her to move on... His mind refused to accept that line of thought.

"Then tell me why you're here with him - Eddison was on the Intel committee and you used the information you got from him - and from what I understand, he was well rewarded for his troubles. It worked for you once - how do I know you're not planning on it working again?"

She froze for a second as though he'd slapped her. Olivia might have stumbled, but Fitz wasn't relenting. He kept her moving even though she felt as stiff and cold as a statue.

"So, now we're keeping score of my indiscretions, are we?" The anger and pain in her voice stabbed him like an ice pick in the chest, piercing him to the core.

Her voice went trembly with it. "I get it - you still don't trust me, you still haven't forgiven me! And if you never do, it's all my fault, isn't that right? Is this still the waiting part - or are you done with that? I haven't been keeping score as well as you obviously have been doing!"

"You don't get it!" Fitz said in a harsh half-whisper. "You don't get it at all!"

Her voice was pitched low so it wouldn't carry, but it didn't lessen the intensity. "What? That there's still a part of you that doesn't want to forgive me!? Well, this should make you happy - I haven't forgiven myself yet either. Maybe I'll never be able to forgive myself - does that make you happy at last?"

"No, it doesn't!"

He felt her pain, his pain, all of it all together. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything.

But another voice was speaking instead of his.

"That's enough."

They both turned to see Jake standing there. He held out a hand to Olivia, but his eyes went from her face to Fitz's. "I think it's way past time I cut in."

* * *

Olivia didn't realize that she was shaking until she'd taken Jake's hand. He didn't say anything, not even after he'd danced them both away from the president. She couldn't say anything for several long moments, while she fought to get her thoughts in order.

"I apologize for interrupting, but - but things just didn't look good." he said. Jake took a few moments to look down at her. "Are you all right?"

She wasn't, of course, but how could she ever explain that to Jake? She didn't want to lie either. "I will be. The president and I just had a difference in opinion. It happens more often than you would think."

"A difference of opinion." It was a hell of a lot more than that, but Jake knew not to press her. He'd backed off from the two of them once they had walked out onto the dance floor, but had kept an eye on them as best he could. They had managed to conceal their disagreement for the most part, but as the second song had begun, Jake could tell that they were both ready to escalate into an open confrontation. For both of their sakes, he'd been left with no choice but to intervene.

From the looks they'd both given him when he had, Jake knew that he had gained points with neither one of them.

Jake was well aware that there were currents swirling around that he had no knowledge of, let alone how deep they might be. Some he might guess at, some he didn't even want to wade into at all, but for now - at least for tonight he decided that the best thing to do was to keep the situation firmly in the shallow end. He ventured a smile at Olivia instead of the questions he wanted to ask.

"I don't suppose that the president informed you that I am going to have to play Cinderella tonight, did he?"

Olivia shook her head. "No, you were not the subject of our - conversation."

"I think that was easy to figure out, even from across the room." he said. Jake sighed. "Look, I'll probably get called in before the hour is out. But I want you to stay and enjoy yourselves with the others."

She started to protest but Jake cut her off. "I'll make all the necessary arrangements with the driver to come back and pick you up after I leave. I want you to stay and have a not too good of the time for the rest of the evening so that I'll have an excuse to promise that I'll call you as soon as I can."

He looked at her again. "Unless you think you can't stay - if it isn't wise, or safe..."

Jake didn't know it, but he'd said the right thing. A new light came into Olivia's eyes. She was not about to let Fitz run her off like she was some sort of disobedient little girl sent to her room. Not. At. All.

"I'll stay." she said to Jake "I'm staying." Olivia welcomed the smile he gave her.

"Good." Jake said. "And it's not like you aren't here to work as well - I do know you well enough for that. Tell me that I'm wrong."

She didn't deny it, Jake noted. The question was, of course, working at what? He couldn't help but wonder about that; Jake didn't like unanswered questions. Like not knowing what had Fitz and Olivia discussed in private and what Fitz had pointedly  _not_  said to him. But he knew he wasn't going to find the answers tonight.

"In the meanwhile, I do have some time left - where would you rather spend it - here at the table, where I can be all kinds of charming and amusing, where we can indulge in some more verbal foreplay, where we ask each other all kinds of fascinating questions and are equally very unhelpful in answering them - or out on the dance floor - where I can be both simply charming and amusing?"

Simple was what she needed right about now. Olivia stood and offered him her hand. "Surprise me."

Hopefully, charming and amusing would take her mind off of Fitz.


End file.
